Boiling Blood
by kellythegreat
Summary: Sequel to 'Steam' : Zuko is guiding Aang to the North Pole, with Katara by his side...but is Admiral Zhao becoming what Zuko thought he had destroyed? And what fate will rule the Avatar? Gets intense, by careful.
1. Chapter 1

**Boiling Blood**

Sequel to **Steam**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender**

Katara's eyes were wide, unfocused, staring blankly as she scrabbled blindly at the front of Zuko's shirt. The air was bitter, whipping her face in mocking laughter and stinging her red-rimmed eyes, her lips chapped, her skin thrashed and dry.

"Don't cry Katara...it's going to be...alright..."

Zuko's teeth were chattering so hard he could barely manage the words from his throat. His arms held tight around her, embracing her from the winds with body and spirit, shielding her from the groping, clawed hands of her invisible monsters. His scar was stinging mercilessly but it didn't register in conscious thought; his mind was bent upon Katara, her terrified frame clutching to him desperately as she tried, in vain, to escape the reality of what had happened to them.

He could hear her chest heaving as she tried desperately to stop from hyperventilating, the tears falling from her eyes without her knowledge. He held her close and swallowed, though his throat was dry and sore; pulling her as close as humanly possible she buried her head into his chest and he gazed out into the freezing darkness, rocking her very slowly in his arms.

_How could this happen?_

* * *

"Hey - hey! Katara! Look - look what Zuko taught me -"

Aang pulled back his fist just as Katara emerged from below deck, carrying a large fishing net in her hands. The Avatar spun gracefully, and sent a stream of glowing, fearsome red flame from the edge of his fingertips. It soared towards the side of the ship and Momo, who was sitting on the railing, let out a terrified squeak and sprang on Sokka, who yelled and flailed around as the lemur climbed across his face.

"You - Momo - OW, THAT'S MY EYE -"

Katara laughed as the lemur leapt from the warrior's face and scampered over to her, sniffing at the net in her hands. At the familiar scent of dead fish its nose wriggled in disappointment and it leapt down the deck towards Appa, who was now a giant, permanent decoration that made the ship sink a little lower than might've been comfortable.

Zuko and Aang were standing a little ways apart as Aang hollered with joy, final a master of the fire technique both Iroh and the Prince had been teaching him. It was safe to say, however, that Iroh's lessons usually turned out to be something off-topic, like teaching the young Avatar how to play flute and instructing him on discerning the quality of an antique. Iroh knew ages worth of fire bending, but it was Zuko who ended up teaching Aang exactly how to perform it.

"That's really good, Aang -"

"Aang? Zuko? Are you still bending?" said Iroh as he followed Katara with a long line of rope. "You have practiced for hours! Come and help set up the net so we can catch something for tonight's dinner."

Sokka gave a loud, obvious groan and slumped down beside his sister, who was flinging the net over the side of the ship. He put a hand on his stomach and his face turned sightly green.

"Fish? Is that all there is to eat? More fish?" he moaned, sick of having the same tuna forced down his throat every night on board. Aang leapt to Iroh to unburden him from his load and Zuko sat down beside the warrior.

"You're the one who was so excited about fish, Sokka,' he said plainly as Sokka frowned and turned to the Prince with an exhausted expression.

"Yeah, well, that was before I was eating it every second...of every hour...of every day..."

"Oh, lighten up Sokka," said Katara cheerfully, tying a knot in the rope to secure the net. Zuko let a light grin escape his lips when Sokka's head sunk to his knees in frustration, his ears turning a frightening shade of red.

"Stupid fish…and their…fins…"

Katara always felt Zuko before he reached her, and it was by no trick of sound or sight. She knew exactly when his thought turned to her; the burning boundaries of his deep heart would soften, the fierce aura around his beaten body fade into gentle flame. She knew when he approached and what emotion filled him; knew when he was overjoyed, laughing at some joke of Aang's or some stunt of Sokka's. Knew when the loving yet confusing presence of his Uncle strained his nerves, when he was sick of half-cooked fish, when he was shivering from the artic air, unaccustomed to the bitter cold. Knew the moment memories filled his sight, knew when he saw his father's blackened face raging through the fog.

He put his arms around her and held tight to her warmth, his nose half-buried in the furs of her artic apparel. She turned, and he knew she looked at him with loving eyes…but once again, the obscure mess in his left eye kept him from seeing the world in true colors.

"We're almost there," she whispered gently. He felt her hand stroke the side of his cheek and he smiled despite himself. Then his hope faded and she heard a serious note enter his voice.

"I may not be welcomed with open arms, Katara," he whispered back. Behind them, Iroh was teaching Aang about aim and precision, the delicate curve and flick of a fire stream, the exact angles that fire benders used in battle. Also, they had decided to use Sokka as a target.

Katara turned and gazed at him; golden haze to sparkling blue, flame to ice, passion to peace.

"It doesn't matter what they think," she said, smiling gently. "You are a friend of the Avatar. You defeated the Fire Lord. You are a hero." Zuko leaned into her, his grin unrestrained.

"As long as I'm your hero," he whispered. Katara didn't reply, but she didn't need to. Zuko nudged her nose and she let out a soft giggle before his lips descended on hers.

* * *

A raging, unearthly cry filled the cabin. Fire erupted from flesh in a tremendous, vicious roar and the floor crept with red tongues, the flames licking greedily up the walls, the ceiling choked and stained with smoke. The guard in the room gasped in terror and stumbled to the burning carpet. The messenger quivered with fear beneath the hellish fire and flung his hands over his head; sweat dripped down his face as he gazed, completely petrified, into the flaming eyes of his leader. Zhao turned on him, teeth bared white as he growled in his wrath, the fire licking his scorched shoulders.

He leapt on the messenger, clenched his chin in a fiery fist, and let one final scream of pain echo through the red light of the flaming room. Then he let out a furious roar and snapped the man's neck with a sickening crack.

The body crumpled curtly to the ground and the guard, terrified, speechless, immobile, stared wide-eyed, crouching by the door. Zhao's skin was burning to black and there was a nauseous smell rising from the scorched corpse at his feet. But the Admiral's interest in the messenger died as instantly as the man had, and he stepped over the body, his fury unbound, raging through the wild fire that ran in rows up his back.

He grabbed the guard's chin in his hand and the man let out a muffled yell, fearing he too would be dispatched – but Zhao contented himself with the complete panic in the guard's eyes and his fingers clenched on his throat, burning the unresisting flesh.

"You will find him," he hissed slowly, the fire dripping from his fingertips and making long, deep burns in the man's neck. "He will not elude me. He has destroyed everything our Nation built. We will not fail when we are so close. Remember this, soldier -"

He threw the man to the floor and he land full on his back. The wind flew from his lungs and he struggled towards the door on one elbow, wheezing, clawing faintly at his wounded throat, desperate for escape from the demon above him. But Zhao was laughing, his face glowing in delight beneath the cackling fire around him.

He swooped down upon the man and the guard let out a tortured screech as the Admiral snapped his arm in an awkward direction and flung him out the door. The man rolled over in the snow, still gasping for breathe, his body screaming with unimaginable pain. As he cradled his arm to his chest, nearby soldiers froze what they were doing and stared, captivated with fear, at the flaming hut and the whimpering man. The camp became silent as ancient stone; the only noise was the soft crunch of Zhao's footsteps as he approached the whispered pleas of the guard.

"Remember...not even the Avatar has this strength. I will destroy you if you fail again."

He roared again and all the other men fell back, scampering to their huts to escape his hellish fury. As they scattered, the flames in Zhao's fists died ever so slightly and he glared at the man, grinning from two matching, deadly, golden eyes.

"I am death. Remember that."


	2. Chapter 2

Sokka groaned loudly as he forced the last spoonful of fish soup down his throat and slumped back in his chair. Aang was sill stuffing Leechy Nuts into his mouth, nearly inhaling all the food on his platter as Iroh sat by him, delicately sipping his teeth. Zuko grinned at Katara, who had just finished her bowl, and caught the young Avatar's eye across the table.

"Hey Aang, I thought tonight we could work on that -"

" - the fire kick? I've wanted to try that for a week! I saw the form you used when you were practicing, but when I tried to swing my leg out -"

"Now Zuko," said Iroh firmly between gulps of his steaming tea, "The Avatar has already trained enough for today. Really, if I weren't here to stop you, you two would do nothing _but _fire bend! Katara's had to drag you down to eat the past few nights -"

'That's not because of the fire bending," said Sokka sourly, glaring pointedly at the bland, tasteless bowl of fish soup set before him. They all prepared to laugh, but suddenly his abdomen gave a loud, decisive growl and all eyes turned to the young warrior. He gave a grimace and struggled to smile, but a hand flew to his mouth as his face faded to green and his upset stomach raged angrily in response to the trout.

"I..I'll be right back -"

He ran from the room, half-tripping as he fumbled on deck, and Aang couldn't help but give a friendly laugh as his best friend floundered on deck with his meal fighting back.

"No wonder Sokka doesn't like the soup..."

"Young Avatar, I have something to teach you tonight - that is not fire bending, I'm afraid," said Iroh calmly as Aang jumped up into bending position. The Avatar groaned and slumped back to his chair, thoroughly disappointed that he could no longer train today. He was becoming quiet good, and had caught both Iroh and Zuko off guard several times, which made the young boy wild with success and seek longer hours of training. Iroh, of course, knew that such fast progress could harm the boy, so whenever he said training was over - training was over.

"You can learn to save the world some other time, Aang," said Katara cheerfully. Aang sent her a 'ha-ha-that's-funny' face and Zuko let out a small laugh. Iroh stood from his chair and walked across the room, where he stopped efore a large, rusted door and put his teacup down.

"Now, Avatar, I will teach you how to-" he flung the door open and it banged dramatically against the wall. The room was illuminated with candles like some sort of meditation room, but in the middle sat a large game board with the pieces set up and ready to begin.

"- play Pai Chow!"

* * *

Katara's fingertips glided across Zuko's, smooth as silk, cool and calm as ocean waves. Zuko could feel the delicate rush of serenity flow through her again and his spine shivered in a terrifying, wonderful way; his insides caught fire and Katara trembled slightly as the heat drifted from him in the soft, protective embrace she had come to know so well. She was not aware of his arms around her, his breathe against her cheek, the slight waver in his voice when he said her name. He was flaming, desperate passion that stirred her from rest and released the fearsome, river contained inside her; and she was soothing beauty that captivated him, made his head spin, his body relax. His whole being fell completely under her control.

Zuko kissed her, gentle as she was beautiful, practically starving for her soothing touch. Katara slipped her hands around his shoulders and her fingers glided down the back of his neck, her lips falling across his in a deep, silent dance. Zuko faltered and his hormones began to cloud whatever conscious thought he had left; he gripped her waist in despair and struggled to look away.

"I wish...you wouldn't do that..."

Katara's hands slid from his neck and she averted his gaze, blushing deeply.

"I'm sorry..." she began, but Zuko shook his head, ashamed that he had made her embarrassed.

"No, no...I mean, I like it - but, its - its hard to explain - um...just..." he fumbled over his words as Katara began to laugh quietly. He grinned despite himself and leaned into her again, brushing his nose against hers.

"You just...make me dizzy, that's all..." he whispered. Katara's giggles fainted and her gaze lifted to his. Golden eyes froze as ice pierced him. Zuko's breathe caught as the intensity of her beauty poured forth, flowing from those gorgeous, forgiving, peaceful eyes, the ones he knew were his alone, his angel, his love...and once again his annoying, sinister hormones took over.

They were standing in the hall outside Katara's bedroom door. Sokka had retired to his room awhile ago, after discarding all the offensive fish from his stomach. Iroh was still playing Aang, who - despite all his Avatar skills and bending techniques - could not win a single game of Pai Chow against the crazy Uncle.

Katara began to fade from reality as Zuko's lips caressed her neck. He wasn't holding her too tight, but he wasn't letting her go either. She thought briefly of inviting him inside - an idea that had become harder and harder to resist as the days wore on - but knew that their love had to be tested, even til this breaking point. She nipped Zuko's ear softly and the Prince swallowed, placing a light kiss on her before pulling away.

Katara looked at him for a moment before placing a soft hand on his scar. He didn't flinch; Zuko was used to her gentle touch and he wasn't ashamed of his scar anymore. He could still see only in blurs, it still burned from seawater, but Katara's touch brought him no pain.

"Tomorrow...when we get to the Water Tribe at the North Pole," whispered Katara sadly as Zuko gazed silently at her. He smiled gently and leaned in, kissing her forehead.

"We'll be married," he said slowly. Katara smiled at the prospect and kissed him again.

"I love you," she whispered.

"I love you too," said Zuko, no longer fearing those words. "Goodnight...and sweet dreams."

"Only of you," said Katara quietly before she slid away from him, stepped inside her room and closed the door. As her hand left the doorknob, one half of her mother's necklace glittered at her wrist.

Zuko thought about skipping down the hall, but he decided against it for fear of waking Sokka. He turned the corner into a chamber where he could hear Aang fuming about his twenty-third loss; as he entered his bedroom, the half-necklace on his upper arm glittered in response to Katara's.

* * *

"Admiral Zhao, we have news of the Avatar -"

Zhao leapt from his seat and sent maps, pens, and ink fountains flying through the room. A candle fell to the floor at his feet and the flame vanished in a flash of smoke.

"What news? Report, or I'll make it so your throat burns to speak," he snarled, glaring at the messenger. The man straightened up as sweat poured down his forehead from fear.

"The - the Avatar is with the Prince, and they are pulling into the Northern Water Tribe tomorrow. We are only a few days march from there, Admiral -"

Zhao gave a great, terrifying laugh and slammed his hand onto the table, causing the legs to wobble dangerously. His shoulders were bent, but thankfully they were not lit with flame. The messenger relaxed a little and continued with his report.

"Also, sir, there's a small army of earth benders coming up the West Pass. My companion and I tried to send a spy in, but they discovered us before we had a chance. They are only three days away, but if we move quickly -"

The messenger would have gasped, if it hadn't have been for the hand on his throat. Zhao was flaming again, his rage unpredictable, his wrath death.

"Do not tell me how to run my army," he growled, throwing the man to the floor. As the messenger gasped for air the Admiral left briskly from the cabin and strode out into the cold air.

Soldiers were cooking various sized fish over blazing fires as their companions pitched tents, shivering right down to their Fire Nation bones. Others were throwing blankets over the horses and feeding them barley, an attempt to save them from the bitter Northern winds. Still others played with the dogs, feeding them leftover fishbones and talking with old Generals who retold glorious stories about the Nation's rise to power.As the Admiral strode between them, the camp hushed instantly. Zhao was absolute terror, and no one under his command dared to speak out of line when he was present.

Zhao glared at them all with this sickening, insane smile. With oone swift flurry of movement he spun a dagger from his belt and it thudded, quivering, into the snow.

"Most of you will stay here...prepare for battle. There's an army coming and you should be able to defeat them without problem. But do not kill them all. I want as many alive and captured as you can manage. The rest of you will come with me to the Northern Water Tribe. I have business with some of its visitors."

There was a silence stemmed from the army's great fear of their Admiral. Zhao's smile faded.

"WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT? GET TO WORK!" he roared, the fire licking his shoulders. The men started and floundered through the snow to prepare, their motivation thriving from their terror. Zhao watched them all carefully and the guard from the previous day, his neck bandaged and inflamed, approached the Admiral.

"Who will go with you for the Avatar, sir?" he asked quietly. Zhao turned to him, the very essence in his eyes on fire, his soul baring from his gaze like a greedy, fiery demon in search of fresh blood.

"I will decide that. You will stay with the army. Front line. Do not..."

Zhao's hands flickered with flame and the burns in his palm deepened.

"...disappoint me."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh...sweet, sweet salvation..."

Sokka fell to his knees on the hard ground, looking around the marketplace with tears swelled in his eyes. To his right, a man was assorting cabbages on his cart in a very peculiar fashion...as if he was concerned with the placement of every, single, particular cabbage, and if any sole head of green vegtable was out of place it would be a horrible disaster to the world. Sokka's eyes grew big and watery and he leapt towards the man, clawing money from his pocket.

"Oh sir, please, can I buy a cabbage -"

He stopped abruptly in mid-sentence and looked at the money in his palm, then looked back at the cart. The warrior raised his hand and scratched his head as the vendor stared at him.

"Was I really so desperate that I was about to eat cabbage?"

"Hey Sokka! Try this!" said Katara suddenly, leaping beside her brother and shoving something into his gaping mouth. Sokka, surprised, swallowed it instantly and barely caught the taste on his tongue. He licked his lips and his eyes grew dazzled.

"That was...heavenly...KATARA! Where did you get that?" Katara gave a sly smile and skipped away.

"Its candied fish, Sokka. Made to taste like watermelon," Sokka didn't move for a moment. Just as he opened his mouth to yell at her, his face turned an ugly, pale shade of green and he clapped a hand over his mouth, rushing, once again, to the water's edge. Iroh, who was leaving the boat's deck beside his nephew, gave a little laugh.

"For a warrior of the Water Tribes, I think that young man doesn't quiet respect the ocean. He is always dumping something revolting into it, Zuko..." Zuko gave a forced laugh as Aang drifted down beside him on his glider. The young air bender had come to respect the Fire Nation Prince, and with the knowledge that Katara and him were somewhat closer than he had before thought, his relationship with the fire bender had relaxed a little. Also, he was teaching him fire bending, which was pretty important to the Avatar.

"So Zuko, is it alright if Katara and I find a water bender somewhere? I don't want to skip out on fire bending lessons, but I have to learn how to bend all elements -"

"Don't worry about, Katara's probably asking around already," said Zuko instantly, waving to the water bending girl up the street. "I'll be with Uncle Iroh."

Aang gave a laugh and a thumbs up as Momo jumped onto his shoulder, ready for the next adventure. Behind them, Appa slunk off the ship into the snow, sending a few birds scattering in various direction. The great bison gave a loud yawn and settled down into a snow pile to sleep, turning nearly invisible in the blank painting of the freezing landscape. Iroh patted his fur fondly as they walked by, and Zuko waved faintly to Aang and Katara as they headed down the street.

"You know what our first order of business will be, Prince Zuko?" said Iroh, smiling slightly. Zuko raised an eyebrow, prepared for any sort of outrageous idea that formed in his Uncle's head.

"What, Uncle?"

Iroh gave a perfect smile and quickened his pace, so that he walked off with Zuko standing, confused and slightly afraid, behind him.

"Why, finding you a priest, of course. What did you think I was going to say?" he cast a look at his nephew over his shoulder and Zuko gave a laugh, catching up with his crazy Uncle.

"I don't know...something about tea, I guess."

* * *

_The world is weak, leaderless. The Fire Nation was going to save them from themselves. Fire is the element of strength. Fire will rule._

The Admiral let a soft stream of smoke escape from his palm. He was not inside his tent, as the guards thought he was; he was standing, motionless, atop a large, starlit snow dune. The miles of ice-covered wasteland stretched out before him, merciless and cruel as his own twisted soul; lights were glittering faintly from small town a few miles away. As the wind brushed past him he gave a sinister grin, his clothes waving softly in the bitter, stinging air. The snow as glowing, almost translucent in its glory, beneath the white starlight that would soon envelope this portion of the world.

In a few days the Northern lights would begin glittering on the horizon. Pink, yellow, white, red...red as the fire in Zhao's hands, as the fury in the Admiral's cruel, black, twisted soul. Such was the way of the world, the way of men. Even in the extreme peace of the northern borders, the delicate perfection of beautiful tranquility, there was always something more beautiful, more terrifying, something that the feigned peace but was born from deep, angry fires. The false prophet that begins wars, the misunderstanding, the innocence that sin twists into a gruesome horror. The thought made Zhao grin in a strange way. He gazed out at the dark horizon, his eyes shimmering with the same demonic flame that ran, deep and disturbed, through the living, killing machine that was his body.

His mind turned to thoughts of blood, beautiful crimson blood, staining the battlefield as fire bender and earth bender collided; he let out a short, crazed laugh and licked his lips at the thought.

"Blood, and death, and pain, and misery," he hummed to himself, his eyes wavering in their sockets like a maddened snake waiting to strike. "It will control the world. It will control the rebellious. I love...this war..."

There was ring and the dagger at the Admiral's side flickered, silver and stunning, beneath the stars. Zhao did not cry as the blade tore through his flesh, ripping his arm open in a vicious tear and spattering red across the cold, white ground. He laughed again and licked a drop of blood off the open wound.

The world was silent to his insanity. The stars looked away, the appearance of such a devil utterly unbearable for heaven's eyes. The very earth seemed to cringe in disgust, ashamed that it had created a being of such fierce and unquenchable bloodlust.

Zhao tasted the blood in his mouth tenderly and gazed down into the white valley. The houses of the Water Tribe were far away, miniaturized by the extreme distance. The lights from shop windows were still glowing, bright and yellow, much like the rows of candle flame that Zhao used in his meditation. He inhaled deeply and focused on one particular light, wondering if he could bend the lantern flame from so far away.

* * *

Zuko looked around the shop idly, uninterested in anything the old vendor had to sell. Iroh had ducked inside seeking a large trumpet to add to his musical instrument collection, and ended up in a long winded conversation about the musical legend in the Water Tribe history, a young man named Kat Suh. Apparently he could play all instruments with hands and mouth, and several with his toes. He had died tragically, apparently, while attempting to hold a single not for more than three hours.

The Prince picked up a pan flute and studied it in a bored fashion. He enjoyed music, of course, but he couldn't play an instrument as far as he could throw it - scratch that, he could throw pretty far.

He slouched back into a chair beneath a lighted lantern and turned his mind to other things. The ship was being re-stocked with fresh supplies, but they were not leaving the tribe unless a water bender could not be found.So far, no one had confronted the Prince as an enemy - but it had also been very dark outside, almost impossible to recognize anyone, and he concluded that most people believe him to be some visitor from Earth Kingdom. Sokka was probably polishing his blade, humming that song his father had taught him and preparing for music night with Iroh...and Katara. If she and Aang had not found a water bender, they would have returned to the boat, and she would be waiting for him in the hall...she would ask if he had found a priest...

He flinched. They had not found a priest. Despite Iroh's efforts, they had barely begun their search of the town, and the men and women they spoke to all referred to the temple on the hill - a hill that was a considerable distance away from where they currently stood. Inside an old music shop...owned by a man with three teeth...who had really bad lighting...that stupid lantern kept flickering...

Zuko's eyes flickered instantly to the lantern. The flame wasn't dying...it was...shrinking...and growing...and then shrinking again...

Iroh noticed the changes in lighting and turned to gaze at his nephew, who was staring blankly at the candle. The man smiled, his arms all full of instruments and merchandise.

"Zuko, meditation? Now? Surely you can wait until later -"

"I'm not doing it, Uncle," said Zuko instantly, staring dumbfounded at the flame. Iroh paused and continued his study of the lantern, which grew blinding bright, and then fell to a soft haze. The fire was breathing, thriving, living; the shop keeper looked warily from one fire bender to the other and took a step back.

"Now, I'm used to seeing strange things, but this isn't -"

"I'm not doing it," said Zuko defiantly, casting a pleading look to his Uncle. Iroh said nothing, but merely gazed at the candle with a studious expression. Zuko straightened up, his eyes still on the lantern, and a sudden, terrible thought pierced his mind. He spun towards his Uncle, his eyes wide with revelation.

"Uncle - fire benders, they have all returned home, right? But Admiral Zhao -"

"Admiral Zhao is with the Rebellion, Zuko," said Iroh flatly, lowering his gaze. "He is much farther south of here. You are overreacting. I am sure one of our soldiers simply walked by the shop."

He nodded towards the flame, which had stopped its odd behavior and returned to a regular flicker. The shop keeper, still at a loss for words, let out a soft cough, signaling that Iroh had not yet payed for anything. Iroh got the idea and turned back to the counter as Zuko's gaze wavered on the flame.

"Yes...you're right Uncle. Overreacting..."


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the not so fast update, I was out forever yesterday...Here's the new chapter!

* * *

"No Katara...it's a flip, you take your right arm and flip it across the other -" 

"I was doing that Aang, the trouble's at the end - the water isn't spinning around my wrist the way yours is, its got something to do with the direction of the wind -"

"Come on Katara, there isn't any wind -"

"There's a gust of wind every time I try to -"

Katara stopped in mid sentence and flashed a knowing glare at the Avatar. Aang smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of his head as Momo leapt gracefully onto his shoulder. The lemur stared around innocently and then jumped over to the water bender's shoulder, who was glaring a silent accusation at the young boy. Aang sweat dropped and stepped back, shrugging his shoulders.

"Hey, it wasn't me, I swear...really! Come on Katara, you believe me, right?"

"Hardly," grinned Katara reluctantly. Aang gave one of his enormous, cheek-stretching smiles and flopped down into the soft snow beside the icy waters. A gray mist seeped from his lips as he exhaled, still unaccustomed to the bitter temperatures, and he shivered slightly as Katara sat down beside him. She was completely unmoved by the freezing climate, but she immediately noticed the slight blue tinge in Aang's skin - a hue that matched the air bender tattoos on his head - and draped her coat over him, which she herself had little use for. Aang smiled in appreciation and the two took a few moments to gaze, numbed by awe, into the cold, shimmering darkness of the northern ocean.

Aang stirred where he sat as Momo nuzzled his side for warmth. Stirred from his daydreams, he turned back to Katara, who was watching the waves with the faintest smile on her lips.

"So...Katara," started Aang awkwardly, attempting to sound smooth and unconcerned. "You and...Zuko. Yeah...Sokka told me you two were pretty close -"

Katara blushed furiously and looked away as the Avatar continued his casual reference to the Prince and her's relationship, how Sokka had told him Zuko liked her, how Iroh made jokes about their marriage...

"I mean, I don't mind - Zuko's a great guy! You know, once he stopped hunting me and everything...a lot better than Jet, anyway," he added with a quirky little grin that made Katara laugh. "...and Sokka doesn't seem to mind, and Zuko saved me from Uncle Iroh a lot more than a few times -"

"It's ok Aang, I'll tell you," said Katara, smiling as the boy stumbled on in his friendly attempt. Aang relaxed a little, letting his shoulders fall, but Katara could tell he was anxious. She took in a large breathe and stared out into the water.

"While we were on the island, Zuko...he let me in on things that most people would never know. I really did hate him at first," whispered Katara, reliving the fierce, sometimes dangerous arguments that she and Zuko shared. "But after we cooled off...I don't know. We just...fell in love, somehow."

"Love?" said the air bender suddenly. Momo picked up a few nuts at Aang's feet and Katara looked at the Avatar, blushing deeply again. Aang stared, dumbfounded, for the span of three seconds. Then he burst out into a sudden, loud, explosive laugh.

"You - you love Zuko? No way, you're kidding -" Katara shook her head, anxious for Aang's reaction. She had not yet told him the other part...the proposal, the marriage...Aang studied his friend's face carefully, but he could pick up no usual hints of a lie. He raised an eyebrow very slowly as his laughter died away.

"So...you love him?" he said uncertainly, searching her eyes like she was pulling a practical joke. Katara gave a quiet, blushing nod. Aang whistled.

"Oh...ok. Well, Sokka knows, right? Yeah, and he's ok with it...I'm alright with it too! Don't look at me like that!" he stuttered quickly, seeing a crestfallen look come over Katara's features. "Just - sorry, I kne there was something going on - Iroh was always joking about priests -" He stopped abruptly as Momo nuzzled against his shirt and stared at the water bender.

"Are you two getting _married_?"

Katara's blush went so red she soon resembled a ripe tomato.

* * *

Zhao skidded down the slope, his armored knee tearing roughly through fresh snow as flakes began to fall through the air. He landed, crouched in listening position, his shoulders hunched forward as he bent close to the ground. There were hardly any tremors in the earth, hardly a movement or a sound. The frozen wasteland was silent as the brooding night sky, hanging perilously above the demon's head. Motionless as the proud, colossal glaciers that tore through the horizon like ghostly giants. 

Zhao was the spark to a bomb, and he knew it. He knew his place, his own terrible and glorious destiny, the way he crept forth to begin battle the way the insecurities of men crept from their filthy holes, clawing silently their master's minds until they were broken into a willing slave. All men were slaves to their own faults, their own fears and dreads and inner demons. Only two types of men stood strong in the world; the man without fault, and the man who became his demon. There was no man on earth without fault, no man who did not have a wrath stirring inside him. But Zhao had become what other hid; he had become the demon. And such a man had nothing to lose, no terms of rules or treaty, no reason or mercy. Such a man was the most dangerous thing on earth. A man who was demon, a man whose humanity had long been stripped away.

He pressed his ear to the side of the nearest house and listened carefully. There was no sound from inside, no movement. The home was either vacated or the family was lost to deep sleep. Zhao was calculating whether to dispatch them or not when he saw a pair of shadows walking down the deserted street.

He fell into the darkness beside the building - a darkness that mirrored his own perversity, his own twisted, bloodthirsty soul - and glared at the two oncoming men with his teeth barred, straining against himself like a dog aching to tear the flesh off a steak.

But when they came into full sight, Zhao froze. He felt an anger rise in him an smoke escaped, momentarily, from his clenched fist. He silenced the raging fire inside him and glared hatefully at the pair, his teeth grinding horribly.

"...said their was a priest further North, in that larger building. What do you think, Zuko? Perhaps it can be arranged much sooner than we thought..."

Zhao's growling paused. A priest? For the rat? What need would he have of a priest - a priest in the Northern wild lands of a Water Tribe, for that matter - and why wasn't Zhao springing from the shadows and tearing the stupid kid's throat out - ?

Someone called the Prince's name and Zhao refrained from quenching his bloodlust. He saw that stupid rat of a Prince break into a smile and rush forth, embracing a young girl. Beside her, a smaller boy, bald-headed and carrying a large stick, stood by and watched silently. Zhao's fury re-boosted.

_The Avatar. _

The treacherous, disgusting, infuriating filth! Zhao's fists began to shake again, pouring smoke that was indiscernible in the shadows, and let both hands fall to the snowy earth before they light of flame was seen. He clawed his fingers through the snow, so deep that they cut along the earth and stained the ground with crimson. He raised on hand to his mouth and licked the blood away, still flaming with rage at the sight of the ever-elusive air bender boy.

But even in the extremity of his fury, Zhao noticed it. The way the Prince's face shone with happiness when he gazed at the stupid girl, the way she laughed joyfully when he said something, the way Iroh shook his head and re-stated that they would need to find a priest very soon. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her. The weakness the young Prince let slip through his gaze.

Zhao's mind was quick and terrible. Her tan visage was matching of the deep skin tone of Water Tribe, the pattern sown into her coat the exact print of a water bender. The priest's store would do, for now...and he would need to find a girl...

He crept from the shadows, still glaring hatefully at both Prince and Avatar as the continued towards the docks. He still had an irresistible, demonic need to spring forth and devour them in flame, but decided flatly against it...for now.

Why kill something that is of so much use?

* * *

"Sir, a messenger has arrived from the battle, we captured a few less than ten earth benders -" 

"The rest," hissed Zhao, letting his arms ignite into terrifying flame, "The rest. Did you kill them?"

The guard faltered a little, unsure of where the conversation was headed, fearing for the well being of his mortal body. The flank of troops behind him shifted uncertainly and fire began to ride up Zhao's shoulders in impatience.

"Ye...yes, yes. We killed them..."

"Good," snarled Zhao. A sinister smile lit up his chapped lips and he glared at them all. The bitter weather had taken a dramatic tole on the once healthy, thriving Admiral; his eyes were bloodshot, no longer flaming with pride, but with terror, desperation, thirst...his skin was pale and dry, riddled with bruises and gashes compliments of the harsh tundra, his lips chapped and raw from the unmerciful winds. He moved in a disjointed fashion, always prepared for a stab in the back, and attack, a mutiny. Fire was nearly always at his hands, and it illuminated his white complexion in such a way that the devil himself could hardly look more terrifying.

"Bring them to me...but save the strongest one and bind him."

The soldiers shuffled away to retrieve the prisoners, and the guard relaxed considerably. The strongest earth bender - a muscled man with long, dark hair - shouted something nasty at the Admiral but he pointedly ignored it. Seven others were thrown at his feet - six were men, but among them was a single female earth bender.

Zhao studied her closely. She was the same height, though that feautrewould not matter in time...and her skin tone was relatively the same. A few modifications, and she would be perfect. In the meantime, he gestured for the furthest prisoner to be thrown at his feet.

He grinned down at the cowering man, his hands already broken he was unable to bend. Zhao let out a great, booming laugh and all the soldiers flinched.

"Now I will show you the true terror of Fire Nation," he hissed. His whole body burst into flame, a demon among mortals, and he stepped forward as the man began to scream.


	5. Chapter 5

Iroh strode off the ship and took a deep, grateful breathe of the cold air. The sky was still dark, the moon hidden in shadow, the black canopy dotted with bright stars that glittered like Christmas lights. Technically it was morning, though the sun would be sleeping on other sides of the world for many long days. The old General, though unaccustomed to the perpetual darkness, found the starlit, silver tundra a breathtaking portrait in comparison to the molten lands of Fire Nation. Why, if he could stand the cold, this may be a nice play for him to retire...start a shop, give Pai Chow lessons...

He started off down the street at a leisurely stroll, waving casually to the few vendors that were setting up shop on the roadside. Snow had fallen during the night and women pushed the mounds from their doorsteps with heavy shovels; large huskies bounced jovially in the fresh powder as their masters finished loading their sleds. A husky that was almost too wolfish bounded up to the General and licked his hand, sniffing at his pocket. Iroh laughed gently and drew a piece of fish from his coat, tossing it to the dog. The husky devoured it and bounced back to his sled, where his master was harnessing the dogs.

The houses were not set in neat rows, but scattered; partly because some of the ground was not ground at all, but very hard ice - which explained why an old man was sitting beside his house with a fishing pole in the snow. Iroh walked up to him with a friendly smile and sat down beside him as the man nodded his hooded head.

"Ice fishing, I see," said Iroh, claiming his interest in the activity. The man nodded, smiling.

"Passes the time, don't it. Relaxing, too. I assume you've never had the pleasure?" Iroh gazed at the hole in the ice with a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Afraid I haven't, but perhaps one day I'll learn - after my retirement, I suppose," the man laughed quietly and began to instruct Iroh on the styles, hooks, baits, and talents of ice fishing.

Zuko saw his Uncle sit beside the old man and grinned despite himself. Katara, noticing the two old men had become acquaintances, took his hand and pulled him towards the nearest shop. It was a run by an old weapon smith, and Sokka was already inside with the man studying his poorly repaired boomerang.

"I can fix this for you, no problem," he said, winking at the warrior and setting the boomerang on his desk. Sokka gave a leap of joy as the man began to upgrade the repairs on the precious weapon. Zuko kissed Katara lightly on the cheek before studying a long, curved blade that was hanging on the wall. Katara approached the counter as the man pulled out a replacement blade.

"Excuse me, sir...do you know if there are any water benders here? I don't mean to be rude, but we've been searching for one -"

"Well as a matter of fact, young lady, we've got two," said the man, his tone light and good-natured. "One's a hermit, don't seem him much around, lives in the glaciers further up...other one's the priest. She's the best water bender around, anyways."

Katara's heart leapt in her chest. Behind her, Sokka and Zuko were play fighting with the curved sowrd and a double-sided spear. Sokka wasn't doing so well.

"Do you know where I can find her -?"

There was a loud bang and the door fell roughly off its hinges. Aang toppled into the room, out of breathe, barely able to stand. He leaned against his glider as Katara rushed over to him and Zuko and Sokka dropped their weapons. The shop owner gazed in shock before running over to aid the Avatar.

"Aang? Aang! What's wrong? Why -"

Katara's thought screeched as Aang's eyes met hers. He was terrified, his eyes shaking with fear, his whole body quivering. He pushed away from her as though she was some horrible monster and shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

"The square...I went there, with Momo...it was...it was horrible..."

Zuko put his hand on the Avatar's shoulder as he swayed from fatigue. Aang seemed paralyzed, barely able to breathe, to stand up. Sokka approached him worriedly as the shop keeper threw his head out the window to see if anything was chasing him.

"Aang...what was? What's going on -" Sokka would have gone on, but at the moment a loud series of screams pierced the air.

* * *

Zuko skidded into the square with Sokka beside him. The two were mirrors of each other as the pushed through the crowd of horrified people; women who wailed and children who screamed, men who bit their teeth and yelled for everyone to get away. The two young men did not need words to know exactly what they were about to do - defend these people, defend the Avatar, defend Katara -

Sokka slid down into the opening before Zuko did. The snow on the earth was melted into puddles of cold water, and their was a nauseating smell hanging on the wind. The ring of people backed away as the two boys skidded to a stop beside Iroh, who had ran blindly from his ice fishing and was now staring, mortified, at the scene. Sokka was the first to see and he turned instantly to Zuko.

"Don't let Katara come down here."

"What -?"

"DON'T LET HER!" he yelled, pointing past Zuko to Katara's frame, who was still pushing her way through the crowd. Zuko bolted back up the slope as Sokka turned back to the sight and swallowed beside Iroh. Katara met Zuko halfway through and gripped his shirt, confused out of her mind.

"Zuko, what is it -?"

"Go back to the ship with Aang. Please," he added desperately. Katara stared at him, and Zuko could see the concern swelling behind those gorgeous, blue eyes. But he couldn't let her - he had heard the tone in Sokka's voice and knew exactly why Katara couldn't go down there.

"Zuko, if there's a fight, I can help, there's snow everywhere -"

"It's not a fight Katara, please," he begged. He didn't want to fight with her right now, he needed to get back to Sokka and Iroh. "Trust me, please. I'll tell you later. Just go back to the ship..."

Zuko knew she was searching his gaze, knew she was feeling for his flame, trying to discern what would cause this desperate plea. She could heard the tremor of terror in his voice and knew he was saving her from something, but her heart ached that he was facing it alone.

"Sokka's with you, right?" she asked instantly. Zuko nodded and she swallowed. He leaned in and kissed her for reassurance, holding her close for a minute.

"Go talk to Aang. Practice bending. We'll be back soon," she nodded, squeezed him faintly, and took off in the opposite direction.

Zuko turned back to the slope and took a long, deep breathe. Then he pushed past the shocked people and skidded down beside Sokka, who had hardly moved from his spot. There was a breif moment where Zuko shut his eyes, preparing for the blow, and opened his eyes to the scene.

He knew instantly why they screamed. Why Iroh clenched his teeth. Why Sokka bent over, choked, and vomited.

They were burned, broken, dismembered, twisted, pulled apart, eviscerated, decapitated; bones were broken, torn through gashes of what may have been muscles, veins spreading across the snow like blue and purple wires. Sections of bodies were burned into mutilated figures, eyes were hanging from sockets, skulls crushed inwardly, heads disfigured. Flashes of metal or ice stuck through limbs and nailed bruised, torn abdomens to the ground like a mockery of a crucifixion. Body parts were flung feet away from them, black with scars, their death fresh as the sickening, horrible stench that hung in the air. They were not even recognizable of men, their skin was all torn or bloody or burned, their insides turned out, the joints cracked into obscure angles. The only thing that their torturer had left untouched was their gaping mouths, frozen in what Zuko knew was a horrible, twisted death scream.

It was the most grotesque, horrifying thing the Prince had ever witnessed. As Sokka strode up beside Iroh, slightly green from being sick, Zuko felt his own stomach rising in his throat. The men of the Water Tribe were shooing the women and children away, telling them to go inside and lock their doors, opening them for no one but their husbands.

Zuko threw up, but recovered quicker than Sokka. Iroh had seen devastation before and merely let his eyes water as he counted.

"Six...there are six," he whispered. A man from the Water Tribe, having disposed of his lunch, glared at the old man accusingly.

"So, this is what the Fire Nation does, does it? Come to our town, mutilate and kill? This is the working of - ofthat twisted Prince, that blood-crazed General -!"

"If you would take the time to think, my friend, you would know that my nephew and I would never dream of doing this, much less accomplish it," hissed Iroh. It was the first real time - ever since the fight with his father - that Zuko had ever seen real anger etched into his Uncle's features. The man fell silent and Iroh glared at him and his companions, letting his age-old experience shine forth.

"These are Earth Kingdom soldiers. Do you see their teeth? All the people of Water Tribe have perfect teeth - the warriors of Earth Kingdom have very crooked ones. And as for us - why would we find six Earth Kingdom soldiers, torture and kill them, and then leave them lying in the street, after we have been here peacefully for the past three days? Have you seen any sign of Earth Kingdom? Isn't there a watch on the street at night? If we had done this, someone would have seen us."

Iroh glared back at the carnage and studied the surrounding area. Despite his words, Zuko noticed several men glare hatefully at him and gnash their teeth. Iroh gazed back at the first man and lowered his gaze.

"The bodies were carried here all at the same time. There are no long trails in the snow, so they were not dragged. The footsteps were covered overnight by the snow. But they must have come from the West, since that is the only direction they could come without the watch seeing."

"You seem to know a lot for someone who didn't do it," hissed the man. Several of his cronies cracked their knuckles in reply.

"You seem very ignorant for a man of your age," snarled Iroh in defense. "It would take us six hours to make it to where I suppose they were brought, and how could my son and I carry six bodies? No, sir. There is an enemy close by, and I suggest you arm your people. In the meantime, we must take these bodies away. Zuko? Sokka?"

The two boys nodded and toughened their shells for the work ahead. As Zuko pulled on a pair of gloves and a second coat, he focused his mind on Katara. For the next four hours, through the horror of carrying disfigured body parts to the water's edge, the sole thing that kept both himself and Sokka sane was the thought of their friends aboard ship.

* * *

Katara was still pondering over what could possible have been down the slope when she started into the street. Everyone had locked themselves indoors, something she and Aang would have to do when they reached their separate quarters on ship. There Katara they would wait for Sokka and Zuko's return, and whatever terrible story came with them.

So absorbed what she in her puzzlement that it took her a long while to hear the steps behind her. But when she turned, they had stopped.

She gazed down the street, slightly scared but deciding she was just over-stressed from the incident. Shaking her head, she turned her gaze back up the street.

It was too devilish to behold, to terrifying for her to scream. She stumbled back and Zhao's hand clenched on her jaw, tearing her voice away. He glared at her, his bloodthirst momentarily quenched from recent kills, and fire rode up his arm.

"Did I scare you, little girl?"


	6. Chapter 6

LOLOLOLOL

ok, I have to put this up for everyone because I found it hilarious

WarriorAtHeart: Poor Sokka and Zuko they had to carry bodies...and Katara...poor her...she got captured by the evil half ape-man!

k I'm done. :D

* * *

Katara strained against the chains but it was no use; they held tight to her, groping her skin with freezing claws, biting mercilessly at her flesh. Zhao was watching her, grinning his terrifying smile. Katara roared in frustration and lashed out with her tongue.

"You evil -horrible fiend -what the hell do you want? Let me go - Zuko, and Aang, and Sokka, they'll come and -"

"You're friends won't find you," he hissed, instantly enraged bu the name of the hated Prince. "I suggest you save your strength, unless you want the firsthand experience my other prisoners had." Katara gave another angry lunge but the iron held her tight.

"What are you talking about? Whoever your prisoners are - I'll - I'll free them..."

She slowed and paused, seeing a light dawn on the Admiral's pale complexion. He let out a small laugh that sent the girl's spine shivering in terror.

"So...you didn't have the pleasure of enjoying my little joke? Dear, dear...you missed quiet a show. I suppose they wouldn't let you down there though, too weak of a stomach..."

"LET ME GO, DAMN YOU," shouted Katara. She was completely unconcerned with Zhao's ramblings; all her thought was focused on Zuko, the soft gold of his eyes, the warmth of his embrace...the way his gaze would shift into fear when he discovered she had never returned to the ship...Zhao let out a long, low snarl.

"Damn me? Your words amuse me. But I don't have time for this..." he turned to the guard standing by the door and his shoulders lit with flame.

"Bring me the girl!" he barked, so loud that Katara's ears stung. The man stumbled from the room and slipped outside, where the sound of his footsteps died away. Katara continued to struggle, but her attempts only seemed to increase the Admiral's amusement. Idly he let his hands glow with flame and he raised his fingers to a tapestry along the wall. The fabric burst into flames and he grinned strangely as the fire rode up the wall, glittering in his empty eyes.

There was whimper and someone crashed to the floor at Zhao's feet. Zhao did not seem to notice, but Katara's eyes fell on the girl with sudden horror and sympathy. She struggled onto one elbow, her dark hair tangled, scattered, crusted with dried blood; her clothes were torn and Katara could see burns etched into her tan flesh, the slim cuts of whips riding across her back. She tried to stand but fell horribly as her right hand buckled beneath her. Her left hand was untouched, but the right was shattered, the bone crumbled to pieces beneath the skin. Her eyes gazed up at Zhao and Katara saw a faint, desperate hatred light up her features. She raised her right hand and a few rocks hovered into the air. Zhao promptly stamped them into the dust, kicking the girl hard in the stomach.

"You know what you get when you try stupid tricks," he hissed venomously as the girl rolled over, her eyes shut tight as she held her stomach. Blood was seeping from the corner of her mouth and Katara stared, lost in shock. Then her insides flared and she roared towards Zhao.

"You horrible - sick - twisted man -"

Her head spun and pain exploded violently across her face. Zhao lowered his fist as Katara gasped for breathe, a dark bruise forming around her left eye.

"I'm getting impatient with you," he growled as fire flared from his shoulders. Dazed and hurt, Katara hung against the chains, helpless. Zhao strode to the girl on the floor who looked up at him, terrified, still wheezing for air.

His fingers poured fire and his fist clenched around her jaw; she gave a startled whimper as he carried her, her chin burning, and held her up beside a recovering Katara. He studied the two for a moment.

"It's enough," he stated, his tone echoing a sort of satanic pleasure. He threw the girl back to the ground and nodded to the guard, who grabbed her arm and dragged her from the room. Katara glared hatefully at the man as her world came back into focus, preparing to spit more insults at him.

"You - fiend, you coward -"

Zhao ignored her, studying her features. Katara's voice paused as he grinned at her.

He raised his hand to her shoulder and ripped her coat off of her. She flinched until she felt his hand at her wrist; she gave a terrified gasp as he tore the half of her mother's necklace away from her.

"No - No! Give it back! Don't you -"

"Silence!" roared Zhao, completely past his endurance of the girl. His fist slammed intot he back of her head and she fell unconscious. The guard had just returned to the room as Zhao finished untying her.

"Leave her on an iceberg somewhere. Make sure its somewhere far away...I want her to die slowly, slower than I could ever manage. What are you waiting for? Go!" He snarled.

The guard trembled and bent to pick up Katara, who lay out cold on the ground. He swung her over his shoulder and left the tent, leaving Zhao grinning at the perfection of his plan.

* * *

Zuko did a double take and stared at Aang, bewildered.

"What do you mean she's not here? I told her to come back..."

"I thought she was with you and Sokka...you haven't seen her? At all?" said Aang. The first faint comings of panic were being to take over the Prince and he stepepd towards the Avatar, shaking slightly.

"If this is some sort of joke, cut it out and tell me where she is -"

"Calm down, Zuko. I am sure Katara is fine," said Iroh quietly. Zuko's fists stopped shaking but Aang seemed unnerved; Sokka frowned and threw his fist victoriously in the air.

"Well then, let's go find her! She might still be in a shop somewhere!"

"I am sorry, Sokka," said Iroh calmly. His eyes bore intensely into Zuko's who was gazing at him in a simmering fear. Flames began to appear between his fingers as terrible thoughts crept into his skull. Had she been hurt? Was she lost? His shoulders began to shake as he thought of Katara, wounded and crying in the snow, calling for him. He would rescue her, he would save her, he would bring her back -"

"I am afraid of telling you my suspicions, but they may be of use later," said the old man slowly as Zuko continued to stare at him, waiting in perilous silence for the elder to speak. "Perhaps...perhaps..." he turned his gaze on Aang, who had his glider in hand, ready to soar.

"The people who slaughtered those men. They may have something to do with it. If we can -" Sokka's voice pierced his ears.

"Zuko!"

Iroh turned towards Sokka, who was running after the Prince with astonishment glowing in his features. Zuko didn't think. He didn't breathe. His insides were flaming again as scarlet tore through his flesh, his eyes casting a desperate gold glow onto the white tundra. His Uncle's words had risen an inexplicable terror in him, a terror that he hid in anger, floundering through the snow as he bolted into the darkness.

He didn't pause when Sokka called him. The warrior's voice was background noise, an insignificant voice that could neither detain him or gain back his sanity. The white powder surfaced around his knees, the wind whipping his face in a cruel attempt to thwart his search; he tripped several times as he stumbled past the few lighted houses, his hands digging into the snow where he fell and numbing all the feeling from his ice-coated fingers. Frost was forming around the edges of his face but he neither realized nor cared about his own personal state; his mind was racing, too scared to think straight, flashing pictures in his mind.

There she was, crying with him in the water on that warm, heavenly island where he had first discovered her beauty, her serenity, her forgiveness...she was laughing as Momo pulled Sokka's hood over his head and he floundered around deck, cursing the troublesome lemur...she was petting Appa as Aang practiced fire bending with Iroh...she was gazing at him, softly, he face lighted with a flaming rose, her flawless blue eyes flickering with yellow fire. She was perfect, heavenly, beautiful, peaceful...

And he was not about to let anyone hurt her.

But he wasn't paying attention to where he was going. He flung his foot out into the air to meet the snow, but it never did; startled and helpless, gravity grabbed him viciously and he tumbled headlong down the snowy slope, rolling through flying showers of white powder, his body thudding hard into the frozen ground below. He came to a tumbling stop at the base of the hill, covered in snow and shivering so much that he lit his hand just to keep himself warm. And it was then that he saw him.

He was walking towards him with a look of deep concern, an expression he never, never wore. An expression that made his pale features seem even less trustworthy.

Zuko roared and stumbled to his feet as the flames glittered up his arms. Weak and cold as he was, his fury was stronger than ever, his wrath twisting him into the fiery demon that he had long sealed away. His fingers dug into his palms and his flesh began to burn; his clothes threatened to catch fire.

"YOU! I knew it - what have you done with her? Where is she? TELL ME! I swear to every Avatar to ever walk the earth, I swear I'll incinerate you -"

"I do not have her, Zuko," said Zhao, his voice sounding sad but his eyes glittering. Zuko roared.

"LIAR!"

He lunged towards the demonic man and swung his fist to catch his face. But the Admiral was fresh, and Zuko was exhausted. He dodged the blow easily and Zuko tumbled into the snow, ice stinging the scar on his face.

"I know how angry you must be right now," said the Admiral softly. Zuko was turned away, so he didn't see the smirk spreading across the man's devilish face. "But if you really want to know, follow me. I can take you to her."

He turned and walked away as Zuko stared, furious and confused, at his straight-edged back. For a moment, his mind warred and his heart ached terribly. But the thought of seeing Katara was overwhelming - he needed to know where she was, if she was safe...

He struggled to his feet, letting a constant flame glitter in his palm, and slowly limped after the Admiral. Zhao heard his footsteps and smiled, letting his teeth glitter and his eyes laugh in twisted ecstasy.


	7. Chapter 7

Fun Review Quote of the week:

Arwey: beats authoress into unconsiousness with my mighty WHACKING spoon NO! KATARA -twhack- CAN'T -thwack- DIE! You must update soon to make sure...oh nevermind. You're unconsious, aren't you dearie?

* * *

Zuko's mind was racing. Zhao was with the Rebellion, Zhao was the enemy, Zhao was deadly, twisted, ruthless, evil, sick; and Zhao knew something about Katara.

He felt the fires within him ignite in howling rage. He wanted to burn Zhao in hellish flames, engulf him in terrible, righteous fury. Devour him in torturous fires like the possessed servants of the devil would be devoured, their bodies soaked in horrible flame, their screams all echoes of the injustices they alone held responsibility for. Zhao was a demon-god among them, the snake that escaped his punishment all too often and all too easily. But now he was within Zuko's grasp, his judgement postponed by the Prince's present weakness but inevitable all the same.

The young fire bender was deciding on how to dispatch the cursed man when Zhao paused and cast an eye on him. They had stopped before the beginnings of a large, ice-coated mountain, the sides all frosted with snow and glittering like a pinnacle of angels.

"I must warn you Zuko. You may not like what you see," said Zhao slowly, forcing regret and pain into his normally crazed voice. Zuko winced as his body shook in pain, his scar still stinging from the wind, his vison blurred on both sides.

"Don't waste time. Take me to her."

Zhao nodded and turned away, making sure his grin was hidden.

As the approached the cliff side, Zuko made sure to study everything, whether or not his vision was blurred. Around him sentries appeared, Zhao's men, posted at intervals along the path. They gazed at Zuko but soon turned their attention back to the raging tundra behind him as Zhao led him into the shaded side of the mountain.

The ice on this side of the mountain had all been stripped away. The prince wondered, vaguely, if there had been an avalanche - but the mounds of snow seemed to have disappeared, leaving the earth beneath it brown and bare.

It was more of a rock slide, then. All the earth beneath the ice had broken loose off the mountain and slid down into a gigantic, heaping pile, covered by the shadow of the mountain. Zhao paused before the destruction and stood, silent as stone, as Zuko flinched and his fist began to smoke.

"This is where you bring me? To a rockslide? Is Katara in the mountain? If you -"

"I have not tried anything this far, Prince Zuko," hissed th Admrial, smelling the scent of smoke on the wind. He smiled slightly at Zuko's rage. "If you take a closer look, I think you will discover why I brought you here."

Zuko glared at the Admiral's back for a moment as the bitter wind whipped his face, rows of icicles hanging off his eyelashes, his cheeks nearly blue with cold. The smoke remained in his palm as he strode forth, taking a wide berth of the devilish man, and stepped forth towards the mountain of rock. He always kept Zhao to his right side, never showing his back, though he knew sentries were posted everywhere and there was no hope of escape.

At first he saw nothing. Mounds of earth and rubble, scattered abroad between large slabs of rock and stray ice shards, all flown about in a tangled web that resembled a natural mudslide. But there was something unnatural about the way the mountain faced and the way the rocks had fallen...to the right, where the mountain sloped more to the left. Shouldn't the rock have fallen that way? It was strange that -

Zuko heart numbed, stopped, and broke.

No, it was too devastating. It wasn't really there. His eyes were playing tricks on him. His vision was blurred. The wind was muddling everything in sight. He blinked, rubbed his right eye free of ice, and gazed back, expecting the horrifying vision to vanish.

But it didn't.

_No._

It didn't register. Nothing registered. His mind was only screaming one word, constantly, over and over again, his heart clawing desperately to the idea that it wasn't true. _No. NO. NO!_

He fell hard, breaking through the thin, jagged layer of ice that covered the snow. It scathed his armor and tore through the fabric of his clothes, cutting deeply into shaking knees. The wind was biting his eyes viciously, tearing at the ouline of his face, but he didn't blink. The gold in his eyes faded to a dull hue, his thoughts shattered to pieces like the feeling of his disbelieving heart. The fire in his veins was gone, his emotions gone on mute. He did nothing but stare as Zhao grinned behind him, relishing his anguish.

It was her jacket sleeve, all covered in dust and debris, torn open with dried blood staining nearly every inch. She had been crushed beneath a slab of monstrous earth, her free arm hanging, limp, cold, and pale, from beneath the heavy stone. Her hand was blue as the underlying tone of snow beneath her, lifeless as the cold rock that covered her. He reached out to touch the outlines of her motionless fingers, but couldn't.

The blue sparkle of her mother's half-necklace glittered mockingly at her wrist, the straps blowing faintly in the wind. Death hung over the scene and descended on Zuko, a cloud of utter despair.

Zhao took a step forward and his foot crunched into the snow. The sound made Zuko's brain turn back on and reality began to enter his mind.

"I am sorry, Zuko...so sorry..." Zhao expected it. He had expected it from the moment the plan began to form in his mind.

Zuko's eyes snapped open, his pupils shrunk, his teeth bared. He gave an despairing, furious, ear-splitting roar. When his lightning bolt of fury turned upon the Admiral it was in a wrath unequaled by anything on this earth. His whole being screamed in wrath, his whole body blazing, threatening his own demise, the flames seeping even from behind the framework of his startling gold eyes, his skin torn with burns, his armor blackened, the ice on his body disappeared instantly. A column of smoke rose into the sky as he sprang the full eight feet between himself and the Admiral, roaring, lost in fiery confusion, the unbearable heat of his own anger, his finger tips flooding, spilling scarlet flame like a river of ruthless redemption.

Zhao caught his arms at the wrists and Zuko's face reared up to his, his mouth opened, teeth bared, still screaming the injustice into the demon's face. The Admiral shifted backwards from the pure rush of fury, the adrenaline in Zuko's body pumping double from his fury.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! GO TO HELL YOU FUCKING -"

"I did not do this, Zuko!" roared Zhao. The man's fist lighted briefly and a blow was landed square in Zuko's chest and he doubled over, his flames dimming instantly. The Prince rolled over to his side and got up onto his knees, coughing terribly, and stared back at the mountain of rubble and the dead, lifeless hand.

"It was an earth bender, Zuko," Zhao whispered softly, letting each word drop with fierce, brutal impact. "It was an earth bender, Zuko. I did not do this."

Zuko stared at the necklace. Tears swelled into his eyes, tears he had before saved only for her. Tears that now streamed down his scarred face and made his left eye sting, tears that fell heedlessly into the snow and turned to ice. Zhao bent down onto one knee and leaned in close to his ear.

"This is what Earth Kingdom does, Zuko," he whispered. Zuko eyes began to clear and his expression changed to one of oncoming fury. Zhao saw it and continued.

"This is why the war was started, Zuko. This is why your father fought. Because this, is what all the other elements do. Fire Nation is not the killer, Zuko."

The Prince's hands clenched slowly in the snow. Flames simmered at his elbows. Zhao's voice echoed into his earlobe.

"Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, the Air Nomads...they are all our enemies. They are the ruthless ones. They are the killers. They _like _causing suffering, Zuko. Fire Nation began this war to create peace. Without Fire Nation in control, this would be happening everywhere...everyday...every hour. Killing, destroying innocent lives. Only the Fire Nation can bring peace. Only the Fire Nation can protect this world from itself. You must understand that, Zuko."

Zuko's teeth clenched. His shoulders began to shake and fire ensnared his shoulders. Zhao did not pause. He knew exactly what to say.

"She was killed by an earth bender. We have her killer in custody, and you may dispatch of him how you please. Just promise me one thing, Prince."

Zuko twitched and growled at the mention of the killer and he lowered his gaze to the snow. Blood was staining the ground from the cuts on his knees.

"Help me save the world, Zuko," said Zhao slowly. "Help me rid the earth of these evil men. Help me revenge all these innocent, unnecessary deaths. The only way to bring peace, to yourself and this world, is to bring it under the Fire Nation's control."

Zuko took one long, last look at the dead hand. His legs were shaking terribly, but he stood despite the cold and the pain. The fire glittered across his chest, his arms, his shoulders, his back, anywhere it could seep from skin and cast a red glow onto the frozen, white landscape.

And in that moment, every scrap of his soul, the moral thoughts in his tortured mind, the heart that Katara had helped him discover, gave one last breathe of hope, and died.

He turned to Zhao, his gaze fury, his tone merciless. Hatred. Barbarity. Ferocity. Fury. Fire.

"I'll do...whatever you say."


	8. Chapter 8

Ok - I'm a be gone for a week or so (camp SUCKS!) so momentarily put on hold, unless I comfiscate a labtop...which is unlikely.And also i'm a junior, since people have been askin me about my age and stuff.

Wait a second...I'm unconscious from a whacking spoon. Dammit...

* * *

There was a hollow, metallic thud as Zuko's ice-coated boot hit the deck. Iroh looked up from where he sat and burst into prayers of thanks. Calling for Aang and Sokka, he rushed towards his nephew with a deep, relieved smile. Zuko did not move, his body blurred by flying snow, his eyes hidden in the howling winds.

"Zuko! We have been searching high and low for you! Never be that irresponsible again -" Iroh's voice caught and feld from his throat. Zuko was motionless, his body frozen into the posture of a cold, living statue. But the feeling that emanated from him was anything but cold.

It stirred through him, more fierce than it had all those days ago when he was possessed with the thought of capturing the Avatar. Passionate flashes of flowing, hidden pain, a constant river of betrayal, anger, ferocity. He stared headlong at his Uncle, pure hatred, his body pouring with anger the same way his hands poured with red flame, licking his armored side, unbound, uncontrollable, ruthless as the fierce gold light that sprang like daggers from his scarred eyes.

Iroh knew his nephew's mind, and the old man's hardened heart sliced open with a loud, despairing crack. His grizzled head bowed, his feet shifted backwards, his love for his dear nephew torn cruelly. His eyes shook as he stared at the floor, utterly obedient to the terrible Prince, but nonetheless crying deeply for the foundations of his broken heart.

Zuko did not heed his Uncle. He didn't heed anything, for that matter. Apathy entered his soul and stayed there like a parasite, feeding greedily off the unjustified pain that plagued his tortured soul.

Sounds all dulled and silence encased him. The very spirit of the world was glaring at him, savoring his anguish, his loss, his despair. There was nothing to describe what he saw; in black and white, completely emotionless, his only glimmer of feeling being one of the most dangerous he had ever felt. Hatred.

He hated the world for its unfairness. He hated Zhao for his devilishness. He hated Fire Nation for their subtle righteousness, he hated the Avatar for his friendliness, he hated Sokka for his clumsiness. He hated Uncle Iroh for his understanding, he hated Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe, the Air Nomads, the earth, the sky, the ocean, the stars, the moon, the very breathe in his lungs, the flame that burned his hands, the blood that pumped in each creature's veins as it walked the earth, unknowing of such terrible and irreplaceable loss.

But he hated one thing most of all. His hands clenched. His scarred eye slitted. The flames grew furious.

He hated himself.

Aang was stumbling onto deck, confused and concerned, rushing towards the Prince. Sokka was close behind, but he tripped over Momo on the way. Zuko did not move.

It all happened slowly. Sokka caught sight of the army of Zhao's Rebellion behind the Prince and gave a bewildered gasp; Aang skidded to a stop before the rigid form of his fire bending friend, opening his mouth to say something.

There was a hiss and Zuko spun, body burning. Aang'spupils shrank and a fearsome, red light glittered in the reflection of his eyes.

* * *

Katara's eyes snapped open.

She sprang to her knees but the effort made her double over in exhaustion. For a moment she sat there, breathing heavily, her eyes wide, red-rimmed and terrified.

She quickly concluded that if she was not accustomed to harsh climes she would already be dead. Icicles were hanging from nearly every likely place on her body, her eyelashes frosted, her lips blue and numb. She scrabbled across the ground with numb, partially mobile hands but her fingernails scraped nothing but ice. Panic began to set in as she looked hazily at her surroundings, the back of her head throbbing cruelly.

Snow was flying everywhere and all she could catch was glimpses of blue, white, blue again; in one direction was the ocean - a direction she decided against heading - and in another the continuation of the iceberg, which hopefully led back to land.

Her coat had been taken and she was facing the temperature with less than substantial protection. Struggling against the ice, she clawed her way up the incline of the iceberg, slipping away from the perilously freezing depths of the northern ocean. Mist was always at her lips, her joints tight and difficult to maneuver in the sub-zero atmosphere. She kept her eyes open, though it caused her terrible pain and turned her vision to blurs, and continued her ascent of the slope, searching in vain for some sort of far-off shelter.

She was reminded, vaguely, of a time long ago when she had climbed a different cliff. A warmer cliff, a cliff on an island where a Fire Nation temple...where golden eyes had gazed at her, falling across her features with layers of love, comfort, strength...

There was a loud snap and Katara gave a startled gasp. The platform of ice she had leant her weight into crumbled beneath her body fell, heavy and harsh, down the slick slope of the cliff side.

Her back banged against the ground and the wind flew from her lungs. She rolled into the snow, gasping desperately for air, her body screaming with pain, her gaze going in and out of focus as it met white powder. Bruises were forming along her back and she felt her body shiver violently as she sank into the snow.

She laid there for a minute, forcing oxygen back into her lungs, and stared up at the gray sky. She gave a very fain whimper and was just about to begin sobbing, when her eye caught something.

It was a big, black hole, cut into the side of the cliff she had just fallen down. Her gave sparkled with hope and she forced herself to roll over, facing the dark sanctuary in the midst of the merciless tundra.

Her fingers dug into the snow and she forced herself into a crawl, trying to focus on Zuko as her mind fluttered and she fought to remain conscious.


	9. Chapter 9

I'M SO BACK!

Didya miss me? Sorry for the long wait...hopefully you like dis chapter!

puts on defensive, anti-whacking spoon armor and arms herself with a penguin

* * *

Aang couldn't see much. Everything was hazy, red-tinged, glowing...and the air was of a stifling, nearly unreasonably hot temperature. His gaze was fluttering with shadows of shapeless masses, focusing on different areas of red light, the sweat pouring across his eyelids in salty streams and dripping into his open mouth. He was like a newborn fresh into the world; he sat up with no understanding of where he was, what was happening, what that fur-coated thing was lying on the metal floor a few feet away from him... 

Fur coat...a blue fur coat...hadn't he seen that before? He looked away from the blue-coated form, his head thumping steadily in a painful throb. He raised his hand to rub across his face, attempting to smear some vigilance into his dazed state of mind, but let out a gasp of pain when cheek met palm.

It didn't register at the moment; he decided in his mind not to touch his face, though he forgot to interrogate as to why it hurt. The blue-coated thing on the ground was moving again and it sat up, shaking its tan head. A mass of black hair shook in the ponytail behind its head.

A ponytail? A blue coat? It all resembled something...something he knew...

The thing turned and looked at him with droopy, out-of-focus eyes.

_Sokka!_

Everything rushed so fast into Aang's head he felt like his brain would explode.

The bodies in the pit, Iroh's suspicion, Katara was missing, Zuko ran off, Sokka and him took hours looking for him, vain hours and came back epty-handed, only for Zuko to return with that look in his eyes, with an army behind him, there was no sound, just a flash of red, an unbearable pain...

"Aang?' said Sokka groggily, still not fully awake. The Avatar's gaze was not yet clear so he stared hard at his friend for a few moments. His face, a tan blur, swivelled and came into focus. Aang's eyes widened but he did not allow himself to gasp.

_It'll heal, _he hissed to himself. Then he flinched when he realized why his own face hurt. Sokka was staring at him, blinking stupidly.

"...Aang? What's on your -"

"Never mind, Sokka," whispered Aang instantly. He rose immediately to his feet and turned his face from his friend's. The blue arrow ran down the back of his bald head as he paced around the room, studying the iron walls carefully. By then the warrior had realized how hot it was and took his coat off, stepping to the other side of the room and examining the bolted door.

"Eight different locks...wow. They really don't want us getting out. And its really hot in here...I feel like a roast chicken."

Aang saw Sokka's eyes light up immediately after he made this comment.

"Mmm...chicken..."

"Sokka! Come one! Focus!" said Aang instantly as he reached the door. Sokka snapped out - not to willingly - from his salivating daydream and pressed his ear to the door. The Avatar glared through the key hole and they both realized that several guards were pacing outside the door. Sokka leaned back and stared at the metal slab. Something clicked faintly in his mind.

"...hey Aang?"

"Yeah Sokka?"

"This...Zuko did this. Didn't he?"

For a long while, no sound escaped from the Avatar's lips. His gaze focused so intently on the keyhole that everything else in the world seemed dim and insignificant. Just as the warrior began to suspect that Aang had no answer to his question, he heard a snarl escape from his friend. His tattoos fluttered a glowing blue and Sokka felt fear rise in his chest. It was the second time he had felt anger flowing from his friend, and it was a terrifyin_g_ thing to witness. Aang's voice reached his ears as the air began to swirl.

"He's going to pay for this."

* * *

The temple was cast in an eerie, omniscient darkness. The pillars were cast in white marble, carven with portraits of giant whales that leapt from raging seas, tearing through white foam to reach the fearsome winds above the waves. Thunderclouds hovered in grey paint on the ceiling, threatening to unleash the purifying rain it represented; blue fires were burning on torches shapes like glaring eels, their eyes glittering with rose-cut sapphires. A great arch formed the shadowed doorway. Up its sides flickered glaciers, pointed pinnacles of ice that loomed over the opening like guardians of the temple's great secrets, throwing hostile messages to anyone who dared disrupt the sanctity of such a place. 

When Zuko entered the first thing he heard was the rush of water. The blue fires were lit below the sources so the ice melted to the serene essence; even in the dark it glittered, flickered over stone and tumbled down pillars, scattering over high balconies like channels of cool spirits. The room itself overflowed with soft energy, a gentle power that flowed constantly in the rivers between the floor tiles, the waterfalls that cascaded down several white-washed floors, the deadly still ponds that rested below statues of past water-bending Avatars.

Zuko's heart threatened to soften at this peaceful reminder of Katara. The darkness of the temple - disrupted only by flickers of blue flame - was like some shield of ghosts that made it safe for his heart to drop, for his shell to weaken, for his grief to be unleashed. But such things of comfort were not real. It would cause him more pain later, more loss, more fruitless hope. The fire of his soul roared and encased him again in his horrible armor of apathy.

The priestess saw him before he saw her, but she did not acknowledge it. Her mind had to focus on the task at hand, the water that flowed about her shoulders as she meditated, the glowing symbols in the ancient book she recited mentally, the prayers she may have to repeat later for this strange fire bender of noble blood...

She was impressed when Zuko did not speak. Normally a visitor would wake her from her meditation and disrupt all her prayer, forcing her to repeat it at a later time. This strange man though, this man that bred pain with each movement of his hardened body, this man with the great fires in his soul, seemed to respect her own custom. The prayers were long and tedious, but through each one the fire bender stood, motionless and silent as stone.

When she had finished her gaze fell, finally, upon his face. The scar she had seen before in visions; the Avatar's great journey, the war, the death of the Fire Lord. Yet other than glimpses, the Prince's face had hardly ever surfaced when she talked with the Avatars past. Her gaze watched him, blue as the water that draped over her shoulder and soaked her dark hair, fearless in the face of his desperation. The fire was never ending in his heart; it fed like a fat parasite off of a pain she could not yet uncover.

The silence lengthened and she felt the man grow tense. The water lowered and sank back into the pool beside her.

"The Prince of Fire Nation should not be in the presence of a Water Tribe Priestess," she said softly. Her voice was like flutes, and it reminded Zuko of the soft way Katara used to say his name. His inside flared in rage, the flame flickering gently between his fingers, and then died again.

" I must ask you what the Water Tribe custom is for burial," he hissed. The priestess didn't blink, but watched him steadily.

"The customs are different than yours. In the heart of each fire bender runs powerful, honorable flame; for this reason the sons of Fire Nations are cremated when they pass, to release the unbound strength of their souls. Our ceremony would not suit you."

"I am not here to bury a man of Fire Nation. I want you to bless a woman of a Water Tribe."

Her eyes fluttered but still refused to blink. She was searching for the source of his anguish, a source he hid beneath the ferocity of his eyes, the deep red flame that glided slowly around his wrists. Her eyes squinted slightly and her shoulders lowered.

"Why do you carry so much pain, Prince? Why is there so much anger in your heart?"

Zuko ground his teeth at these words. How he hated her, how he hated this - this stupid, useless fraud! All he had wanted was her to bless one stupid body, now she had to go on stupid lies about his heart, his nonexistent heart - he decided, pointedly, that he would kill her after she performed her ceremonies.

"I feel nothing, you old liar. I'm not angry. All I want you to do is bless a body for me, do you understand?"

The woman stared at him and took one step towards his flaming figure.

"Apathy grows from pain, dear Prince. It is a leech. The more you subdue your grief, the more it will consume you."

Zuko roared and his right arm burst into blinding flame. His left hand clenched angrily around the priestess' arm and he brought his fiery rage dangerously close to the calm complexion os her face. She stared at him withouth fear, even when the edges of her hair began to singe. The fire in his eyes was of a maddening, terrifying brilliance. When he spoke, his white teeth glittered in a constant snarling of unequaled fury.

"YOU WILL TALK NO MORE OF INSIGNIFICANT THINGS, WENCH," he roared, releasing her with a rough shove that caused her pain she did not show. He panted heavily, trying to control the furious fires about his shoulders. "You will follow me, and you will bless a body. Fail, and I will call you witch and burn you in the center square. Walk."

He pointed to the door and the priestess, still unmoved by his fearsome display of brutality, walked swiftly to the arch and passed him, clutching her right arm.

Her face was rent with wrinkles of her age and Zuko cursed himself. He had nearly attacked an old woman...why? For what?

_She is a water bender. She is the enemy. They are the brutal ones, not you. Beneath her serenity she is nothing but a devil. She could've killed Katara just as easily as that earth bender._

A hellish, red glow lit up his arms and he followed the woman beneath the arch with newly-fueled fury. The pain in his heart twisted to betrayal; betrayal turned to wrath; wrath drowned into hatred. The woman felt the fires devour his tortured soul and she made one more silent prayer to the gentle comfort of the darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Katara scrabbled blankly at the stone, her teeth chattering mutely in her ears, the cuts on her fingertips seeping blood but void of pain. She was too numb to feel anything now; the color had fled from her cheeks, her skin a death-pale with frost, the ice under her eyelashes clinging cruelly to her tortured face. The cave was dark and bare, and her knees sank onto the hardened earth with the faintest feeling of hope. But her peace was short-lived; darkness encased her and impressed, none to gently, the futility of her efforts. With the wind still blowing steadily outside, she knew it was only a matter of hours until her body gave out from exhaustion.

She curled up on the floor, wishing for the hundredth time that her jacket remained around her shoulders. Her eyes shook in attempts to cry, but the sub-zero weather stole the comfort of tears from her.

Her sobs were dry and they sapped her of energy. Nonetheless she continued in her grief, her gaze shifting from the bleak gray wall into something she wanted to see, something that brought her inner comfort even when her body ceased activity.

He had helped her to water bend, all those ages ago when they were stranded together on that beautiful island...Katara shivered into a smile as she remembered their intense rivalry, her annoyance with his apathetic attitude, his irritation at her own determination...how angry he had been at seeing his own reflection that night in the glade, how he sobbed in the water, drenched and pitiful, rejected by the world...how boldly he had stood against the terror of his father, how he disregarded his mortal wounds and fought til the great tyrant had breathed last...how softly he looked at her, scarred physically but healed through her love, his soul bent solely on her happiness...

_"As long as I'm your hero."_

She turned her gaze slowly to the tunnel entrance and a red light filled her eyes. Zuko?...no, it wasn't. She knew Zuko's flame much to well, knew the emotion that made the fire flicker, the spark ignite. And in this reverence of her love she looked upon this foreign light without fear.

A figure stood there with the bright flame in his hand, cast behind with the white of snow like an angel. Katara wondered, briefly, if he had come to seal her fate; but she lost consciousness as the angel approached.

* * *

Aang's fists crashed against the door again, and the metal caved in slightly. Fearing he would shatter his already bleeding knuckles, Sokka grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back. 

"Aang! Cut it out! If you crush your hands, you won't be able to bend -"

The Avatar's tattoos glowed a blinding blue and a fearsome jet of air sent the warrior sprawling to the other side of the cell. The spirit had overcome the boy and reason was a thing of the past. Fire hissed in his palms and rode furiously up his shoulders, threatening to burn with each red flame. He spun and his shoulder rammed against the iron door, the fire exploding in tremendous yet ineffective fury. The force of the impact shot pain through the boy's side and the light faded rapidly. Aang sank to the ground and clutched his shoulder feeling the bruises beginning to form along his flesh.

There was a clatter and both Avatar and warrior stared instantly at the door. Sokka did not have boomerang or blade, but he assumed battle stance with fists clenched. When the locks came undone he faced something that threw him off balance for several moments.

"Zhao?" said Aang suddenly, to stunned to continue his anger.

Zhao glared at them both, grinning wildly in his own devilish delight. His eyes fell on the Avatar and Aang's fury returned full throttle; he leapt towards the man in a righteous wrath as the wind swirled in torrents around him, his fist seeking the center of the man's hated face.

The blow came, predictably, and he crumpled to the floor. The currents in the air died and Sokka leaned over his friend, his own anger freshly inflamed. His shoulder shook and he ran towards the man, furious.

"What the HELL - you're going to fucking PAY for this, I'll kill you, you _bastard_ -"

Sokka felt a sharp sting in his side and his attack failed miserably. Zhao's hand clenched around his jaw in such unforgiving strength that his head felt on the point of caving in. He kicked blindly at the man and met his gut; Zhao, winded momentarily, dropped the warrior to the ground and Sokka leapt towards him a second time.

Zhao was furious by now and when he regained hold on Sokka's throat his hand was flaming mercilessly. Sokka roared as his skin burned but continued to glare hatefully at the man as Aang, recovering, was pulled down by several guards in the background. Zhao studied the warrior carefully.

"Pity," he snarled. A light lit in his eyes that caused a terrible fear to twist its way in Sokka's heart. The flames in the Admiral's hand strengthened significantly as his gaze grew wild. "You would have been a great warrior to fight, you know. A few more years of training. Even now you show much strength..."

Aang roared something inaudible and a fire bender shoved his head cruelly to the floor. His chin slashed open and blood splattered against the metal. The burns etched across his face twisted into fury.

"Let us go - you don't - Katara, Zuko is -" he struggled to speak but the blood from his chin seeped into his mouth and he spluttered between his words. Sokka glared down at the Admiral, his face a matching set of fresh burns. He couldn't speak for the hand clenched at his throat, but her struggled and thrashed nonetheless in Aang's support. Zhao let himself have one, wonderful, demonic grin.

Something smashed into the side of Sokka's head and his brain seemed to explode. He barely had a moment to realize he had been thrown, quiet viciously against the iron wall before he felt a hand on his shoulder. There was a twist and a snap; he howled as he felt the bone break.

"You will be fun, young warrior," smiled Zhao. He gestured to a guard and they dragged him from the room as he clenched his teeth in efforts not to scream.

Filled with fresh fury, Aang's eyes glowed and the air thrashed the guards from him; he sprang towards Zhao like a wildcat and fire found his face.

He fell to the ground, his tattoos still glowing but his body beaten. Zhao was too excited about his new torture toy to care much for the Avatar, and walked slowly from the room. Aang's voice reached him in desperation.

"Don't...hurt him, or I'll...I'll..."

"You see, Avatar," said Zhao instantly, savoring the boy's anguish, "I would like to incline to your request...really I would. But you see..."

He eyes lit up sinisterly with the idea. The young boy's face met his in confusion and hatred and Zhao barely managed a sorrowful look.

"It is by order of Prince Zuko, my boy. I am very sorry."

He shut the door with the roar of angry winds echoing behind him.

* * *

Zuko glared at her back, willing her mentally to hurry up; the snow was falling in thick layers and the thought of what lay ahead made his heart scream from the injustice. Against his will the anger fell to flame and the fire scorched his armor as it bled from his fingertips. He just wanted to get it over with, get back to Fire Nation, where he could have ten wives and wipe Katara from his painful memory...but the thought of other women just made him feel more guilty. 

_Then I'll never have another love_, he swore to himself. Yeah. Solitude. That's what he needed. It would keep him from these conflicting thoughts, from emotions. It would keep him from feeling. Good.

He could see the great mound of earth rising in the distance and he twitched visibly. His hands were still flaming, but he strode ahead of the priestess in a silent and apathetic air. The woman watched him carefully as he stopped before the mound, before the single dead hand that jutted between the rocks.

She had been listening, quiet carefully, to the movements of his heart. His soul was rent, scattered, broken like so many pieces of shattered windows. But who had thrown the rock to break the glass? The loss was heavy on his heart, but there was more guilt on him than he seemed able to endure. Pain burrowed in his heart and sat there, rank and destructive, and he seemed unable to discard it. This terrible Prince, with so much pain? It did not make sense...unless -

"This is her. Do whatever customs are necessary. If you require pay, it will all be given generously."

She stared at the body, the dead hand, the dirty fingernails, the broken blue necklace that hung from a discolored wrist...

"You said, she is a woman of Water Tribe," she whispered. Zuko's lip twitched at this obvious statement and he turned his gaze away from the body, seething.

"Yes. Now get on with it," he snarled. For a moment, the priestess didn't move.

"Was she a Bender?"

Zuko's irritation increased. His teeth ground against each other and he nearly hissed in frustration.

"Yes," he snarled. Again, the priestess stood in silence.

"This is not a water bender, Prince."

This statement made more injustice flare inside the fire bender. To lose his love was one thing - t have her insulted in death was quiet another. He sprang towards her motionless figure, the flames blaring between his armor, his hands blazing with red fury. He bared his teeth and his golden eyes flashed into madness.

"SHE WAS A BEAUTIFUL, HEAVENLY, KIND-HEARTED ANGEL, AND YOU WILL NOT INSULT HER WHILE I STAND HERE," he roared, a great trail of smoke rising slowly from his flaming form. The woman kept her gaze on him, undisturbed.

"If you were not blinded by your grief, you would know I meant no insult, Prince," she said softly. The flames faded slightly but Zuko's wrath remained white-hot. If she tried to play his emotion one more time -

"Look at the hand, my Prince. Look at the way it is turned. Can you not feel the brown earth cry in sorrow? Can you feel the way the spirit at our feet begs for the body? The earth desires her, not the ocean. She is to be buried. She is an earth bender, Prince. If you had listened to the flames of your own spirit, you would know the difference."

Zuko's anger gave way. He glared at the woman, thinking she was lying, but his gaze faltered. He could feel the earth in its restlessness, feel the anguish the ground felt...but he thought it was the snow begging to sned her to the sea, thought it was the grief in his own heart tricking his senses.

His hands shook and he glared at the woman for a long time. They played a war of eyes, and golden was constantly striving against peaceful blue. When fire fell away water remained strong, continuing her search of his heart.

"You have been deceived, Prince," she whispered. Zuko stared at his denial surfaced. The flames engulfed him in renewed fury.

"Your giving me false hope, you old witch, your just trying to make me hurt more -"

There was a loud slap and Zuko's head spun to the side. When the world slowed and ceased spinning he looked back at the woman incredulously, her hand raised to his red cheek.

"You are being foolish, young Prince," she said. Zuko stared at her, dumbfounded, as she continued to scold him in such a motherly fashion that he dared not fight back. Her gaze was fierce but fair.

"This earth bender will be blessed by her own people in time. The woman you thought she was is not lost; I feel her presence in you just as she feels your presence with her. I know now why your anguish sets so deep. Your love for her must be beyond compare. Nonetheless she is kin to me, and even if you falter in your loyalty I am obliged to save her. Now will you search with me, or shall I leave you here to freeze your royal, bad-tempered hide off?"


	11. Chapter 11

Iroh sat, desolate, his spirit destroyed. The guards paced past him, heedless of the old man's saddened visage, the sobbing pieces of his broken heart. He lifted the tea to his lips with a trembling hand.

The cup was knocked violently from his fist and he looked up, unconcerned, into the deadly face of the Admiral. Once he had taken in the terrible features, he folded his hands in his lap and looked back to the floor.

"I always said I would be above you one day, you old fool," hissed the Admiral. His gaze was wild with delight; he stalked around Iroh like a snake, watching for another chance to strike. When the General did not reply he renewed his attack.

"Always said I would take your ship, take your post, take your title. And now I will gain even more. The throne, perhaps...your own nephew obeys me more than he does you."

This hit a nerve. Iroh showed no emotion, but straightened his back and glared straight at the Admiral.

"I do not know what you have done to my nephew, demon," he said evenly, staring him straight in the eyes. "But it will not hold. You believe in torture and cruelty, both of the mind and the body; but I know your weakness just as well as you know mine. I know what you fear, you and all your demonic kin."

Zhao snarled dangerously and brought his face level to the old man's.

"Tell me what I fear, old fool!I am afraid of nothing. I_am_ fear, you miserable excuse for a bender! The world willsoon know me, bow to me, worship the ground on which I walk! I am not afriad; not of you, of your nephew, of the Avatar, of anything in this world. What do I fear, old man?"

Iroh continued to stare, undisturbed. Zhao was grinning at him, his gruesome fangs bared, the furious delight glowing in his maddened eyes.

"You say you have no fear of anything in this world, Zhao," said the General gently. His gaze hardened ever so slightly. "And that is where you falter. For in this life, you can never be made afraid. It is the things of death that terrify you, Zhao."

The Admiral stared at him for a long moment and then roared, tearing himself away from the old man's gaze. He grabbed the shoulder of a passing guard and shoved him towards Iroh.

"Take him to a cell and lock him up. I do not want to see his face again."

* * *

Sokka was thrown heavily into the room, his body rolling agonizingly across the floor. He still clutched his broken arm in a futile attempt to protect it from the source of the impact. Somehow he slipped to his knees and bent over so far that his forehead nearly touched the floor. There was a smell hanging in the air that he immediately recognized - but the horror of it forced it from his mind.

There was only one light; it flickered, bold and laughing, from the fires that sprang from a deep stone basin in the center of the room. Metal objects were hanging on the walls but Sokka did not want to think what they were for. His attention focused on the only thing in the room that moved with life - life that was faint, but still remained.

He was hanging by his wrists from the ceiling and blood was still dripping to the floor; he had been stripped to the waist and in the flickering light Sokka caught glimpses of his beaten flesh. He cringed, but swallowed his horror and approached the man.

Compared to the bodies Sokka had seen this man had gotten off easy; no bones were broken, but his wrists were heavily chaffed from the iron cuffs and he hung unconscious. His body was a canvas of blues and purple; the deepest gash was in his side, and the warrior guessed it quiet shallow in comparison with others he had seen. There was a bloody tear in his forehead and his dark hair hung over his eyes. The glimmer of burns rode up his back.

Sokka tore off his shirt and ripped it into shreds. Somehow he managed a sling for his arm and, though the pain remained intense, he was somewhat more able to move. He noticed a large, slim dagger beside him and picked it up carefully, trying desperately not to think what cruel purpose it had originally been intended for.

After a tedious process of stabbing the keyhole with the dagger, the cuffs opened with a snap. The man fell instantly to the floor with little resistance, but the impact of his body against the ground must have awakened him.

He stirred, lying in his own pool of blood, his hair still scattered over his face. Sokka leaned down next to him, wincing slightly from his broken arm, and put his free hand on the man's shoulders. The warrior was not so prone to sympathy as his sister, and immediately began interrogation.

"Who are you? How long have you been here - ?"

His throat caught when the hair fell away from his face. He took a half-step back, not believing his eyes.

"Haru?"

The earth bender was still too weak to respond; he crumpled back to the floor as Sokka continued to stare, his pain forgotten.

He was awakened from his stunned state when the door opened. He didn't need to see the horned helmets and the devil smile to know who it was. He grit his teeth and stood expectantly.

The door shut with a satisfying click and Zhao's hand lit to flame.

* * *

_She's alive...she's alive...she's alive..._

For the whole return to the temple Zuko could think of nothing else. He dared not express and happiness, for he feared it would be beaten down just as it had before. Yet in the same fashion he did not show his suspicion. If the priestess lied, it would mean only more devastation and her demise. But if she told the truth...his heart skipped before he could stop it and he let out the faintest of smiles.

She did not lead him tot he front of the temple. She rounded the back without hesitation, and Zuko followed, bewildered to her behavior. But when they had turned from the walls of the temple he came upon a sight he would long remember.

They were Elk, but they were Elk of such varying sizes he wondered if they were magic. Some were as large as the horses Fire Nation bred; others were as small as the white-tailed deer of th south. The priestess came swiftly towards to large males, their antlers spread in a glorious magnificence, there coats gleaming but flecked with snow. She stoked the neck of the nearest and it nudged her shoulder affectionately. She cast an eye on the Prince who stood, astonished, at the scene.

"Kami and Okami. Rivers and Rain. My friends, and our guides. Give me this sacred necklace you carry," she said swiftly, turning from the Elk named Kami and extending her hand. Zuko drew the half-necklace reluctantly. After she had told himthat the body was not Katara's, he had taken it in case he may ever see his love again. When he placed it in her palm it was with more than a hint of regret.

"It is well," she spoke gently, softening her gaze on Zuko ever so slightly. Kami's nose nudged the band and Okami soon repeated the action. They let out loud calls and the rest of the herd responded briefly and scampered off.

When Zuko looked back at the priestess she was not there. Kami brushed by him and he saw the leg of her robe pass his ear. Astounded, he watched as she passed him, mounted on the Elk and facing northwest.

"I take it you have not ridden before. It is no matter; Okami rides smoother than Kami and is better tempered. But you must remember to not kick him. He is not a horse, and he will ride much different. It will be more dramatic; front up, back down, front down, back up, and they will go higher when the reach greater speeds. Sit behind the shoulder blades but not on the pelvic bone. If you must steer them, take hold of the antlers; otherwise do not touch them. Wrap your arms around the neck if you feel you will fall."

Zuko nodded dumbly, not hearing half of what she said over the driving wind. Okami walked up beside him and lowered his front legs so that he could mount. The Prince sat, not too steadily, just behind the shoulder blades and the Elk straightened, pacing up beside the priestess.

"Take care not to fall. We will head first in the way of my old friend, who may have found her already. Hold tight!"

Zuko was caught off guard and nearly flipped backwards into the snow. At the last second his arms found the Elk's neck and he clung to the animal for dear life. Okami was, in fact, a very good-tempered beast, and even when Zuko's hold became a choke he did no more than call quietly in frustration for him to loosen his grip.Zuko did not feel like this was smooth riding at all; he was constantly thrown into different positions and balance was almost impossible atop the leaping beast. Nonetheless he clung and watched as the priestess galloped off ahead of him with perfect ease, glancing back every few minutes to check that Okami still bore him.

_The things I do for you, Katara, _he thought - and the idea made him smile, thinking that maybe...he would soon be able to tell her that in person.

* * *

Katara did not awaken for several hours. She felt as though she had died; surely the man in the doorway was her angel? Yes, that would make perfect sense. Soon she would feel great, strong arms around her and she would be released into the gentle currents of the arctic sea. It would bear her away to other shores, beaches that were not of this world. Perhaps there she would be at peace, be happy...she might see Zuko again, and Aang, and Sokka...mother would be there too...

There was a clatter from somewhere nearby and she turned restlessly. It took her a moment to realize the ground was no longer hard, but of a faint softness that reminded her of a bed.

_Maybe I'm already there, _she thought peacefully, wishing to never open her eyes again. _Maybe I'm already lying in the clouds, maybe I'm an angel now..._

Her eyelashes fluttered as she opened them but her gaze met nothing but darkness. A cool air sprang across her shoulder and she realized that her right leg was asleep. She sat up and shook it irritably.

_Well, I guess that daydream's over._

"Awake, are you?"

Her head turned instantly to the source of the voice but the action made her senses kick in. A bright fire was blazing beside her and she was so close to it she wondered why she wasn't burning. She scooted away from it but her arms screamed with pain; biting her tongue, she knelt over and began to rub them with both hands. The source of the voice gazed at her in concern and knelt down beside her.

"Take this oil and rub it into your skin. It'll stop the frostbite. Get closer to the fire! It's the only thing keeping you alive, you know."

The person bustled away after handing her the oil and seated himself on the other side of the fire. From this angle Katara got a good look at his face; he was very old, and wrinkles hung on his face like the drooping branches of a willow tree. His eyes were deeply set and a bright, vivid blue; his grey hair was long, almost down to his knees, and there was a mended scar above his right eye. He must have noticed her staring, for he looked back at her in the midst of slicing a fish open and grumbled.

"Do you want to die? Kids these days...don't worry about the fish, I'll have them cooked in a moment. Meanwhile use that oil and put another coat on. It's there beside you."

Katara reached for the jacket and withdrew some oil from the container. But her eyes were still on the mysterious old man, who was cutting the scales off the trout.

"Who are you?" she asked quietly. The man glared at her, continuing his work.

"You must have a death wish. I'll tell you soon enough, after you tell me who the hell you are. Your arms are turning blue, you know. Use the oil! Put on a jacket!"

* * *

Momo made a little whimper and barely managed to squeeze himself through the skylight. When he fell into the room, however, he gave a startled squeak and disappeared behind a broken statue.

Aang was roaring, the air in the room forming a monstrous tornado of his fury, his element fully consuming him. The battling winds of his soul, the great forces he had kept hidden, were screaming from him now in a rage he had never known before. Time and time again he tore the air in pieces and sent great torrents raging towards the bolted doors. The walls shook and the locks clanged loudly, but the iron remained strong. He felt a lot like the wolf trying to blow down the house of bricks.

The tattoos returned to their normal shade and he sank to the floor, panting heavily. Momo peeked out from behind the crumbled statue and scampered over to his friend.

When he felt the lemur on his shoulder Aang's heart gave a leap of joy. He picked up Momo in both hands and twirled him around, ecstatic.

"Momo! This is great! Where's Appa? Can you get us out? Here, look at the locks..."

But after several failed lock-picking techniques, Momo sank, sorrowful to the floor. Aang gave a tremdous sigh and slumped against the wall as the lemur curled up in his lap.

For a long while Aang stroked the lemurs fur and tried to focus on his friends. Sokka would be dead soon; he had seen the look in Zhao's eyes and knew no mercy was promised for him. The Avatar would be kept alive, of course - but would he be tortured too? He felt the cut in his chin and his shoulders slumped. If Zuko had not come back with Katara, than she was as good as dead too...Zuko, that asshole, that lying son of a...

But Aang was too tired to have any more anger. He gazed down into Momo's huge, innocent eyes and he felt his strength give out. Leaning back into the metal wall, his eyes began to water.

* * *

Iroh looked out the window at the great, ice-capped ridges in the distance, searching for peace. The world would soon be ended, he knew; and it was beyond his power to stop it. His thought turned to Zuko and his shoulders sank in sorrow. The white stars glittered between the clouds as snow began to fall.

It fell around Zuko in thick waves as ice grew from his eyelashes. Okami was getting easier to ride but it was in now way a pleasant trip. He thought of Katara, waiting for him, wondering when her Prince Charming would save her. His insides flamed with determination and he reached for his coat.

Katara pulled the coat over her shoulders and placed the oil on the floor, finished with its healing properties. Her body moved instinctively towards the fire and she wondered what fate had befallen her friends. Were they still looking for her? How upset was Aang? The fire reminded her of Zuko's flame, but not as strong...Sokka was probably throwing a fit, out looking for her even in the snowstorm.

Sokka stared straight into the fire and felt blood drip into his mouth. The whip fell across his back with a vicious sting he knew was only the beginning of his troubles. Haru had awakened but was viciously slashed down and thrown into a far corner, where the warrior could hear the sounds of ripping flesh. Something with several points slashed through his side and he bent forward, coughing, his hands tied to the edge of the fire basin. A tear leaked from his eye.

Aang sobbed uncontrollably as Momo gazed up at him, helpless to ease his anguish. The poor boy could do nothing but cry; his friends were all but dead, his skills weak and useless to save them. The Avatar had failed those he had cared most about, he had handed the world over to a blood-thirsty Prince and his demon General. A insufferable guilt fell upon his shoulders and he clung to Momo, sobbing his anguish to the world.

The world would be his soon, the power, the glory.

Zhao gazed out at the red horizon with a deadly smile, awaiting the Prince's return.


	12. Chapter 12

1"Enough."

There was a low clatter and the cuffs snapped from Sokka's wrists; he hit the floor with a crash that echoed, mockingly, through the iron-coated room. He did not move from where he lay. His body was beaten, bloody mess, his hands shaking slightly from the frequent waves of pain, his breathe shallow and strained from the bruises on his chest. The earth bender thudded to the floor beside him in equally terrible condition. He ground his teeth loudly and clutched his ribs before his temple touched the floor and he fluttered from consciousness. Zhao gazed at them in confused disgust; fires lit his arms and licked his skin, still greedy for flesh eve after hours of burning broken bodies. The Admiral kicked Sokka where he lay and the warrior rolled to the side of the stone basin, his broken arm thrown askew from its sling.

"Not a sound," hissed Zhao, his gaze glimmering with fury. Four hours, and not a sound from their lips. He lavished in the screams of his tortured, replayed them in his mind when he lulled himself to sleep; how could his blood thirst be quenched if they didn't shriek to satisfy his demons? The thought enraged him. His fists shook, smoking, and lit to white flame. The guard beside him gave one decisive shriek before his neck snapped.

The lifeless body crumpled to the floor beside Sokka and the warrior cast a faint glance to it. He turned his gaze back to the basin almost instantly when the dead man stared up at him, his neck crooked in a revolting way. Zhao thundered from the room, a howling bonfire of pure rage, his guards practically shivering with fear beneath the demon's great shadow. The door shut with a loud slam that rang painfully in Sokka's earlobes and threatened to through him into unconsciousness. For a long while, both Haru and Sokka dare not move. They hardly breathed, hardly dared to implore there mind to the act of thinking. Each movement caused the warrior more agony than he ever thought he could've endured. His head pounded mercilessly in a constant thump, his arm screamed from the very marrow of its broken bone. The fresh wounds pulsed agonizingly as he lamented over his flesh, which was shredded to the muscle and burned with hell fires.

Haru was more accustomed to the torture than Sokka was, and he lifted himself first. The action made his abdomen scream and he clenched his teeth instinctively; if he screamed, it would draw back the attention of the Admiral. He suspected that several of his ribs had been cracked, but then again he had suspected that for the past few days. Or was it years? Haru didn't care to remember anymore. He tried to move over to Sokka but the attempt doubled, tripled his already acute senses and the pleas of his tortured body became unbearable. He stumbled down to the floor and stooped there on one elbow, until he willed his arm to drag his beaten body closer to the fire.

His back fell hard against the side of the stone basin and he sat there for a moment, his chest heaving in short, quick breathes, his arm wrapped around his stomach. Scars from varying degrees of burns tore through his skin, his chest black and bloody, his breathing more difficult with each inhale. Sokka saw him from the corner of his eye and tried to stir, but his arm screamed defensively at him and he stayed where he was, beside the dead body of the guard. Haru took in several deep breathes.

"You're...Katara...her brother..." he said slowly. Each word was forced from his lips with ten times more energy than usual. His body was weak, tired, and beaten to an excruciating degree. Sokka was in like condition; he attempted to sit up but his windpipes closed from the effort and he stumbled onto his elbows, wheezing.

The warrior managed to nod and Haru laid his head back against the basin, heedless of the flames that stirred within and threatened to grab his black locks. He winced suddenly as his abdomen convulsed but attempted to smile nonetheless.

"Heh...nice to...see you again...I guess..."

Sokka laughed shortly but his ribs seemed ready to cave in from the effort. He swallowed and grabbed the basin with his free arm, bringing himself to his knees. His throat was sore, he guessed, from the hot smoke of the fire, and his voice was hoarse.

"Funny...ha ha..."

He slumped against the basin and breathed as deep as his beaten lungs would allow. He took a second glanceat the dead body but quickly turned his gaze in Haru's direction, who was clutching his stomach again and trembling with each movement. Sokka summoned whatever energy he had left and forced words from his throat.

"Haru...we've got to get out. If they don't come back for awhile, we can heal...we'll take some things off the wall an try to...overpower them..."

"It's useless, Sokka," said Haru after a great effort. The earth bender cast an eye towards the door and a flicker of anger sparked through his eyes. "They come back every night...I can't even remember...how long I've been here..."

Sokka pulled on his sling and, after tremendous effort, wrapped it around his broken arm again.

"Why are you here, Haru?" he asked. The question had been in his mind ever since the beatings began. He had naturally forgotten it, however, when Zhao had drawn a red-hot chain from the fire pit...Sokka flinched at the memory and barely heard the earth bender speak.

"I was a recruit, in a small army...we had been summoned here because...some of the Water Tribe had seen the Rebellion. We were attacked in the night...I was captured, and my friends...one of them was my fiancee, she was taken to the Fire Nation camp with the rest of us...I've prayed, as long as I've been here, that she got away..."

Sokka remembered the bodies in the pit but dare not mention them. They hadn't seen a female among them, but the warrior could only assume the worst. His hope, however, caught up with him and he struggled to smile at his friend.

"Don't worry...I'm sure she's fine. But we've got to get out, Haru..."

Haru shook his head hopelessly at Sokka's suggestion. He tried to smile as Sokka persisted with his escape plans, but his stomach gave another great heave and is face turned to an expression of defeat and anguish.

"You don't get it, Sokka," said Haru in one last effort. "Even if there was a way out, we'd never get off the ship alive...what help would we be? We have no one to go to..."

Sokka shook his head and struggled to grin at the earth bender, who looked at him quizzically.

"Yeah we do. We have the Avatar."

"Slow, Kami. The Prince is nearly at pace with us," said the priestess cheerfully as Okami bounded towards them, enjoying the fine new snow. Zuko was still clutching the Elk's neck and repeating prayers in his head as he was tossed about, quite uncomfortably, on the buck's bony back.

_I hate Elk, I hate Elk, I hate Elk..._ he repeated bitterly to himself as the flying snow stung his scarred eye and soaked into his clothing. He was just wondering whether he should grab the Elk's antlers and give _him _an uncomfortable ride when Okami stopped short beside the priestess. Zuko was caught off guard and his nose slammed into the Elk's neck before he toppled off the great beast. When he blinked and opened his eyes, he was lying knee deep in the snow and Kami was trying to eat his ponytail.

"Hey! You -" his hand flamed and he swung a red warning in front of the Elk's face. Kami seemed uninterested and merely sneezed idly. The priestess allowed herself a smile before she, too, dismounted - a little more gracefully than Zuko.

"Come, Prince. Bring the necklace. I feel her presence, and that of an old friend."

She patted Kami and the Elk followed her away as she began to disappear into the snowstorm. Okami trotted after them and Zuko stumbled through the snow, struggling to see the outline of the priestess.

"She's - she's alive? If - if you -"

His teeth were chattering wildly and the priestess pretended not to hear the beginnings stammers of his threat. She could see the dark entrance of the cave a ways off and tested the snow gingerly before taking her next step; she knew that, while most of the ice was frozen several feet thick, there were occasional faults that she would need to be wary of. She felt Zuko's spirit flames stumble up behind her and he caught sight of the cave in the distance.

There was a stooped, cloaked figure standing between the icicles, his coat drawn up over his nose and his eyes watering from the stinging winds. The priestess smiled at him as she approached but eh returned none of the warm greeting. He glared, fixedly, at the Fire Nation Prince beside her and huffed, turning his nose up.

"I knew you would come, Ariana. I did not know you would bring an enemy so close."

"Peace, Hiero. He is the one she searches for. I know you have felt the rivers in heart seek the warmth; even now she draws near to the fire."

Zuko looked between the two, impatient and confused. Were they talking about Katara? Was she in the cave? He wished they would get their conversation over with so he could learn about his love's fate. His impatience grew to a simmer of irritation and a stream of smoke escaped his palm. The old man noticed it and cast a wary eye on the Fire Nation Prince.

"She draws to the fire because she is nearly frozen to death. And here we are, standing in a storm like mindless snowmen! I do not wish to be bitter to you, Ariana; many years of solitude have made me it. It seems I have bonded too well with the frozen end of my element. Come inside and see the girl - I am sure both of you will be welcome in her eyes."

Zuko heart gave a tremendous leap but he dared not hasten before them. The two old benders walked regally in front of him and into the depth of the cave, where the faint flicker of a dim fire lighted briefly on the stone walls. For a long moment he saw nothing, unaccustomed to the darkness of the cave, his eyes darting constantly towards the light of the fire. After his eyes relaxed and he could see more, he searched desperately around the room but remained where he was. The priestess glanced at him with a smile and she caught his eye. Nodding, she gestured in the direction of the fire.

Zuko's chest seemed to burst. She was lying close to the flames, her face as heavenly as it had ever been, the red light silhouetting her features in the most beautiful, glorious, wonderful way; her eyes were closed and he feared, for one dreadful moment, that his hopes of her survival had been dashed. But when her chest lifted slightly and she let out a soft breathe, his happiness came bounding back in full strength.

He did not to wake her, still overwhelmed by the mere fact that she lived. He lowered himself gently beside him and she sniffed a little. Subconsciously her body felt the heat of Zuko's inner fires, flames she was more drawn to than the light of the burning wood in the midst of the cave. He slipped his arm around her shoulders and rested his back against the cave wall, muttering prayers to the gods. As she buried her head groggily into his shoulder, He let himself cry.

"Thank you, thank you..." he whispered slowly to the priestess. She smiled softly and bowed her head gently towards him as Katara, still indulged in her dreams, muttered something in her sleep and relaxed again. Hiero, the old man, gave a quiet huff.

The two turned away from the Prince and his love and Hiero bent over his simmering fish soup, taking it up in a ladle and pouring it into a bowl for the priestess.

"They do not know what lies ahead, Ariana," he snapped, but quiet enough for the joyful couple not to hear. Ariana took the soup and sipped it.

"Let them have this time, Hiero," she said gently asZuko's chin rested on Katara's head. Hiero shooke his head and began to pour himself his own bowl. The priestess' smile faded as her predictions came back to haunt her, but she shook them from thought.

"Their trials will not begin until tomorrow. That is many hours away. Come, Hiero. We shall take a night ride and let her awaken to her love. There is no better way to end your dreams."

Hiero sighed and looked at her with a reluctant grin. He shook his head at her sincere smile and stood, gulping down the last of his soup.

"I will not ride Kami. He has tried to eat my beard several times, Ariana..."


	13. Chapter 13

Katara nudged deeper into Zuko's shoulder, feeling for the growing, passionate flame that lit in him. Likewise Zuko drew her closer, growing dizzy with the swift, flowing movement of her cool serenity. Her forehead nuzzled up to his chin and she stirred, remembering the feeling of his skin, but not yet awakened from her dreams.

Zuko brought his glove to his mouth and slid it slowly off with his teeth. Gently, he placed one warm hand on her chilled cheek. She sighed and groggily opened her eyes, remembering his heated touch, the liquid fire in his veins, the ever-thriving core that produced such passion and love. The Zuko that she alone knew; the gentle warmth, the deep flames of his heart that burst into light whenever he neared her, the fire that roared but did not burn. Her strength and her guidance, the delicately flaming rose.

Cool, sapphire light poured from her eyes and Zuko's world spun to an abrupt stop. He was gazing into the eyes of an angel, an angel who's heart overflowed like so many sweet streams from high mountains; an angel whose soothing touch alone could quench the rage of his fires, could bring peace to the wars of his soul. She was his savior, his heaven on earth, and he vowed right then and there to never forget it.

Katara's mouth opened in slight shock but it was soon stopped by Zuko's. Holding her close he let the relieved tears fall, much as he had done long ago in the shallows of the ocean with her beside him. Her own eyes began to water as Zuko gave a quiet thanks and kissed her as he had never kissed her before.

* * *

The door creaked slowly and then flew open with a deafening bang. The iron-coated walls were dyed red with constant flame, the floor twisting and creaking from the movements of the sea, the ceiling threatening collapse. Aang looked up from where he sat in silent expectation. The smoldering eyes of the cursed Admiral did sparker neither fear nor alarm in him. He was apathetic to the world, smothered by the unearthly guilt, his heart torn and shredded to pieces as everything he loved was ripped away.

The Admiral's eye was twitching with unrestrained rage; he snarled viciously and leapt towards the boy in a flash of brilliant, dark flame. The blow hit Aang full force and he flew across the room with sound or resistance. He hit the wall with bone-breaking force and fell, heedless and limp, to the floor, his shoulder and arm burned fiercely. The impact echoed throughout the ship and danced into the sky, where thick, black clouds had begun to form.

In his separate quarters, Iroh was sitting cross-legged on the cell floor, deaf to the rumblings of the ship. Beneath his breathe he chanted in a forgotten tongue, his palms pressed together as though in prayer. The candles in the room were growing brighter with each passing moment.

Aang thudded to the floor and lay there, unconcerned with the pain flooding his body, unconcerned with the bruises growing in his skin, unconcerned with blood that was dripping down across his eyelids and staining the iron floor. He had landed on his scorched shoulder, which was practically screaming, his burned skin discolored and peeling away even as he lay there. His raw, pink flesh shone, glistening, in the light, his shirt all but singed away from Zhao's onslaught. Unburned patches of skin were dyed mercilessly with the Avatar's blood and Aang struggled to his knees, holding down the impulse to vomit, his eyes clouding slightly as he grew light-headed. Zhao grabbed him by his naked throat and lifted him effortlessly into the air. His fingers tightened and Aang's breathe began coming out in faint rasps.

"Scream!" he roared, his eyes wild and flaming, consumed with the bloodlust of his demonic soul, striving to tast the cries of death upon his forked tongue. "Scream! Beg for mercy! Fight back, Avatar!"

Iroh's chanting grew louder. He began to sway, back and forth, as though luring some translucent ghost towards him. The flaming candles about him were fading from red, to orange to yellow, and finally, to white; at this stage they began to glow with such fervent passion that the shadows in the room vanished. Iroh continued to chant, his finger suddenly clenched together, his being struggling as though holding back a great and terrible power.

Sokka opened is eyes as he heard another rumble echo through the ship. Everything seemed very distant and dim; the fire in the basin was cold and far away, as though it was dead winter and Sokka was miles away. The fact that it was three feet in front of him did not register in his mind; his body had shut down to keep from feeling anymore unbearable pain, his being numb to any feeling whatsoever besides the strong and bitter cold. Haru was motionless, lying on the floor in a dark puddle of blood that was nearly dry, his hair coated with soot and singed carelessly. His back was glistening with burns, as was Sokka's own; a great, red-stained clothe was wrapped about the earth bender's stomach, and Sokka's arm had returned, through great struggle, to its sling. The two warriors were motionless, speechless, lying tortured and abandoned among the glistening, unwashed blades that the room bred with exceeding variety.

Zhao clenched Aang's throat tighter, absolutely furious, completely forgetting the golden rule: Do Not Kill The Avatar. He was overcome with his own barbarity, his madness overpowering, his desire for blood unsatiable.

"FIGHT ME, AVATAR!"

Iroh let out a sudden, great cry as he contacted the Spirit World.

Sokka felt a sudden, immortal pain wrack his body.

Aang's tattoos began to glow and his eyes opened in a sudden white flash that mirrored the blinding candles in Iroh's room.

* * *

"You two! Get up! Now!"

The old man shook Zuko fiercely and Zuko awoke with a terrifying snarl. He leapt towards the man, hand flaming, but the man canceled the attack carelessly.

"Get her up! You must go! The Avatar's Spirit is awakened; we must hurry!"

He sped from the cave much quicker than he seemed capable of, and Zuko wondered briefly at his health. He felt Katara's hand fal on his arm and he turned to her, softening instantly.

"The old man says we must go, Katara," he whispered. Katara, confused and still sleepy, nodded faintly and rose to her feet. Zuko wrapped his arm around her until she had gained proper balance; then she looked up at him with bewildered eyes and gently ran her fingers across his scar.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.

Zuko's heart slowed and he felt the feeling of peace sweep over him again. He lowered his face close to her, smiling lightly in soft relief.

"I could never leave you, Katara. You rescued me; now its my turn."

He lifted her abruptly in his arms and she gave a soft yell, desperately wrapping her arms about his neck. Zuko laughed, loud and deep, before she turned and glared at him with the words "don't drop me" written across her face. Zuko shifted his grip on her and kissed her lightly before straightening his back and carrying her out of the cave in a very regal posture. His antics caused Katara to laugh and bury her head back into his shoulder, the only place where it fit that perfectly.

They exited the cave only to come face-to-face with Hiero, the old man. He glared at them and said something in a different tongue that didn't sound very agreeable. Zuko lowered Katara to the snow covered earth and Ariana put a hand on her shoulder. The light-hearted feeling in both lovers vanished, and replacing it was a very heavy feeling that a deadly danger was looming overhead.

"There is no time for games, young ones. At least not at this time," said Ariana gently, but sternly. She walked over to Kami and mounted him swiftly, gesturing for Katara to ride behind her. Katara followed, but hesitantly. The old priestess saw it and sighed deeply.

"The Avatar Spirit is awakened. Hiero and I can feel it. Something dreadful will happen tonight, and it will be your painful task to stop it. All is not well in the Spirit world, and all is not well with the Avatar; he has found the path to darkness, and we must not let him take it."


	14. Chapter 14

Aang had forgotten.

He had forgotten fear. He had forgotten the unpleasant, quivering sensation that rose in his stomach on the eve of great and terrible battles; he had thrown away memories of unreal, seething monsters, dark and twisted Spirits, devils in the shape of men. He had forgotten joy. The sound of laughter fell mute against his ears, replaced by a pressing silence that burdened his young shoulders and fed the hidden anguish of his heart. But even his anguish he felt distantly, his heart turned as cold as the unforgiving glacier he now stood upon. He had forgotten pain. The scars on his body moved in perfect step with his muscle, his body functioning in flawless syncopation, the disfigured portions disregarded and labeled as mere inconveniences. He had forgotten hope. His gaze was clouded only with the lives he had failed to protect, the bloody corpse of a murdered Fire Lord, the inescapable future that held only legacies of death and suffering. He had forgotten love. He had forgotten the roar of a tired, grumpy Appa; he had forgotten Momo's inquisitive glances; he had forgotten Sokka's sarcastic remarks, forgotten Katara's guidance, reassurance, friendship. But there was one thing he did not forget.

He did not forget the iron ship and its leering walls. He did not forget Sokka's mortal wounds and Katara's painful disappearance. He did not forget the sight of torn, mutilated bodies, still smoking in melted puddles of snow. He did not forget the Fire Nation. He did not forget Zhao. He did not forget Zuko.

He had not forgotten his anger.

Aang glared down at the ship from high on the ice-topped peak. Soldiers were running about in search of him, lowering boats into the water to see if he had attempted swimming away. The Avatar's eyes were shining with a pale, white glow that held no promise of hope. His tattoos burned with cold, harsh light, light that stung the eyes of Zhao when he looked upon it and caused him to crumple, terrified, to the floor. Light that held neither justice, nor righteousness, nor any form of warmth or kindness at all. He had forgotten these things, forgotten his path of peace, forgotten even his own conscience.

Iroh, flanked by guards, stumbled out onto deck holding his forehead with one trembling hand. He was very faint, and two guards stood close to him in the event he should collapse. The old General, however, proved much tougher than their predictions. He spotted the boy on the ice-cliff and an ancient fear strangled his eyes. He turned to the closest guard and grabbed the front of his tunic.

"Bring the prisoners on deck! Do you hear me?"

The soldier trembled slightly at Iroh's voice, but salvaged his pride and fought back.

"Admiral Zhao said to keep them locked up. You are also our prisoner, and -"

Iroh grabbed the recruit by his throat and shoved a burning fist into his face.

"Do as I say, or feel more fear than Zhao himself could place upon you! Bring them up, or I will burn you all from the inside out!"

* * *

"Ride, Kami, ride!"

The old priestess spurred the great Elk once again, though the noble beast was flying and hardly touched the ground for speed. Okami galloped beside them, swift as white-streaked lightning, the two men upon his back weightless as the light snowflakes that fell around them. Zuko clutched Hiero's waist half-heartedly, for he deeply disliked the old man and his bitter, impatient ways; but the bounds of Okami taught him acceptance, or else the deepening snow would soon be his only companion. Katara was likewise uncomfortable, but she did not mind Ariana as much as the old man; for though he had saved her life, she was of a much better disposition.

The priestess, however, was in desperate earnest and payed no attention to the Water Tribe girl behind her. Her ears were ringing, ringing fierce and loud, deafening her to the gale of the wind and the thank you's of the girl; they were ringing with warning, ringing with danger, ringing with the knowledge of the Avatar's descent. Ringing with the knowledge that now, after hundreds and thousands of years, a twelve-year old boy had discovered what no other Avatar had.

Aang's cold, blinding eyes glared as Zhao stumbled on deck. Sokka and Haru lay at his feet, their bodies nothing more than elaborate Picasso painting of dry blood, burn scars, whip lashes, and pulsing cuts that dripped onto the cold metal ship and left a miniature Red Sea within a barren, iron wasteland. Two soldiers were bandaging their wounds by order of Iroh and Zhao roared, furious, his body engulfed in demonic, red flame.

The priestess spurred the Elk again, the desperation seeping in. She could see the great, tall smokestack of Zuko's ship in the distance and her heart began to pound. The sun was still out; the snow was still cold; the wind still blew. The Avatar still resisted, however deep his anger set. She felt Heiro's anxiety and knew that he too was concerned; she yelled valiantly and Kami and Okami gave several last, magnificent leaps.

* * *

Zhao heard the wind whistle in an eerie, terrifying way as he threw the soldiers off of his prisoners. The gale was blowing hard, fast...and in the exact opposite direction it had been blowing moments before.

Iroh fell to his knees in prayer as the two Elk landed hard on the cold iron ship. The deck was slick and the steeds could not keep their footing; their hooves slipped and they went skidding, sending their four riders flying about the ship. The priestess was up in a flash and practically screaming a prayer; Hiero was soon at her side doing the same. Zuko fell hard on his back and the wind was knocked out of him; struggling for air he turned himself over as Katara crept to his side and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Zuko, are you -"

There was a massive, deafening, hollow boom. The ship quivered fearfully beneath it, the violent waves slowing and freezing to obedient ice. The ship, imprisoned, shook and groaned in the powerful winds and sent the crew flying. Aang, crouched low to the iron deck, glared at them with blinding eyes filled to brimming with distant, bitter hatred. His shoulders were bent forwards as one knee touched the cold deck; his right palm was spread on the metal, his fingers blue with cold. A slow tremor went through his body just as Katara looked up at him. Her eyes shrank and the world screeched to an abrupt halt.

He raised himself slowly, his aura pulsing, changing, growing into something that was too terrifying to behold, to devilish to describe. A shadow, darker than midnight, grew from within the depth of his eyes and spread slowly across his face.

It engulfed him like a hellish, ravenous beast; it choked the light out of him and tore the peace of his soul; it twisted his young mind in a painful, unnatural way and Aang cried out once in anguish. But the shadow was too strong to resist any longer. He trembled and then straightened himself again just as the shadow finished staining his body, wrapping his thoughts in a veil of hatred and wrath. It seethed from him, thirsting for new victims, creeping along the deck just as the puddles of blood crept from the tortured prisoners. It blanketed Haru and Sokka where they lay, unconscious; it fell into Iroh's eyes as his prayer faltered and faded; it washed over Ariana and Hiero in mid-sentence and they stumbled back, choking on the absolute terror of it. Zhao yelled and ran, but the shadows chased him, rearing up like hungry hounds and falling down upon him as he screamed for mercy. It covered the sky and strangled the clouds; it devoured the moon and darkened the sun; it hid the weak stars and covered the silent ice in a blanket of complete, grinning evil.

And last of all it fell on Zuko, who held Katara to his chest, watching the living shadow with breathless, terrified anticipation. Katara's eyes grew strangled with it and the light blue of her gaze turned dark.

"I love you, Zuko," she gasped. Zuko's golden eyes turned dim.

"I love you, Katara," he choked.

Then they shadow swirled around them and the world went dark.


	15. Chapter 15

Rather short, sorry, but next chapter has a most-awesome fight scene and then a wrap-up.

* * *

_You're dead. You're dead. _

Zuko breathed deeply. Wait, that didn't make sense. He was dead.

_Stop breathing._

Right. Except when he did that he found it very uncomfortable and continued to do it despite his efforts.

_You're dead. Now open your eyes and look at oblivion._

Zuk opened his eyes, but he did not see oblivion; he registered that he was dead, but he did not feel very different, besides the fact that his heart was beating at an abnormally fast rate. Katara, stirred faintly in his embrace and raised herself slowly to his shoulder, where Zuko could feel the identical, adrenaline fueled pumps of her heart throbbing against his chest. Their eyes were wide and staring, but darkness still encased them like some leering, hungry ghost, laughing madly at their confusion and horror and despair. Zuko stood slowly, half-preparing himself for some assault or treachery, Katara quivering helplessly in his arms. If they were attacked, Zuko would be their only defense; for this barren world of shadow was void of earth or ocean or sky or star, so completely black that the deepest caves in the world could not rival it. Katara leaned in closer to the inner warmth of Zuko's body, comforted by his strength, unknowingly sending a wave of cool relief over his paranoid frame.

"Zuko...where are we?" she whispered, hardly daring to breathe the words. Zuko stuttered slightly in his response, trying to focus his ears on the absolute silence around them.

"I...don't know..."

"Allow me to answer that, my friends," came the sudden, abrupt interruption from a voice so loud and powerful that it stung the ears of the two teenagers where they lay, abandoned, in the dark. Zuko whirled, having prepared himself, and called for his fire, ready to light his hands to flame; but his body did not respond to the demand, and his fists lay as cold and white and bare as they had moments before.

Confused, he looked down at his fingers, which moved as normally as ever, besides the fact that red light and heat wasn't pouring from them. Roaring, he called again for flame, passion, fury - and again his skin paled quietly as it refused.

"You'll find that quite impossible while you are here, young Prince," said the deep voice, but it held no within it there was no laughter. It was stern and old, of though the rocks of the ground itself spoke to them out of a dark and invisible earth. Katara's hand found Zuko as he swallowed, realizing his helplessness in the face of this disembodied voice, and their fingers clenched tightly.

"Who...why don't you show yourself?" said Katara fiercely. Zuko was surprised at the passion in her voice before he realized she was terrified into bravery, her hand was trembling violently in his. For a moment, there was no response, and Zuko wrapped his arm around her and she grew quite again.

"...Forgive me, my friends."

A flame ignited a few feet in front of them, casting an eerie, orange glow several feet towards them. The ground was littered with dead leaves and roots, but this was not at all what Katara and Zuko noticed. Standing before them was an old, old man, aged more deeply than the glaciers Katara had grown up climbing and the mountains Zuko had beheld in his youth. Wrinkles wore at his face like the creases of pages in an ever-lengthening book, his eyelids drooped and weary from countess, unending years. There was the semblance of a crown upon his withered brow that resembled the might of a rearing flame, his tall, straight frame wreathed in a deep crimson robe that bore similar emblems and designs. Katara had never before seen such a man, and gazed in silent astonishment; but Zuko had often seen depictions of him in his studies of the Firebenders Avatars, and he knew this one on an instant.

"Avatar Roku," he whispered.

Roku closed his eyes solemnly, as though Zuko had said something very sad that deserved a moment's silence. Katara, utterly bewildered, turned her gaze from Zuko, who's mouth hung part-ways open, and Roku, who had opened his eyes again to the light of the dancing flame.

"Yes, dear son, I was Avatar Roku," he acknowledged, half-heartedly it seemed from his tone.

"But I am now merely the Spirit of that great man; and I can aid you only with wisdom in this dark hour. Listen well, for the doom of the world hangs upon you, and there is no time to waste."

He strode forth towards them, passing directly through the fire and showing no signs of burning or singing, neither on himself nor his clothes. Katara released Zuko's hand, both of them stunned into silence by the ancient power of this long-dead Avatar, and Roku stopped before them with the light of the fire glistening at his sides. He turned first to Zuko, who stood with his knees shaking slightly, awed by the Avatar's authority which far surpassed any mortal claim. But when Roku bowed his head to the Prince, he became even more confused.

"Prince Zuko, of the Fire Nation," said Roku deeply, his voice rumbling with a great and terrifying passion. "When you depart from this place, you will carry with you, for a short time, the powers of the Sun Spirit, who's name was once Kagu. You will use this power only to resist the evil and anger that now infects the young Avatar, who alone of all the other Avatar's to walk the green earth has discovered the Hidden Darkness. You will call him, fighting away this dark shadow, and bring him back to the light with the fires of the sun."

He stretched out his finger and touched Zuko's forehead very gently, as though he blessed the Prince. But a red flash went flying from the tip of his finger and suddenly Zuko's insides erupted into a torturous, maddened hell of unbearable heat and flame, ripping viciously though his weak and untamed body, consuming him, the raw might of the sun roaring unbound and unrestrained within the limited confines of his soul - and then it faded, obedient, to the structure of his body, seeping into his veins and pumping there like hot lava ready to spill, raging and furious, at the first command of Zuko's. When Zuko first felt the immortal power he cried out, even in the face of the ever-calm Roku, and fell blindly to his knees, and Katara reached out to him; but Roku caught her eye and held her, motionless, in his gaze.

"To you, Master Katara, of the Southern Water Tribe," he whispered, his voice changed now to a low ringing that resembled the distant roll of waves. "When you, too, have left the Spirit World, you will bear with you, for awhile, the might of the Ocean Spirit, of La, of the raging waters. You will use this gift to calm the storm of anger and hatred that consumes the young Avatar, the forsaken boy who can no longer remember the wonders of love and joy. You will tend to him, soothing away his terrible pain, and quench all his deep rage with the healing waters of the ocean."

He repeated the gesture he had performed on Zuko and placed a cold finger on Katara's forehead. A fierce, bright stream of blue shot forth and vanished, and Katara felt a furious, ever-flowing fountain burst within her. The calm and serenity of water was forgotten; it rent her from ever direction, rampaging madly through her veins, threatening to burst painfully from every inch of her agonized body. It stormed through her like the hooves of a thousand bulls, goring her with their cruel horns, ripping her apart from every angle with brutish, savage strength and ferocity - and then it calmed, falling gentle like the waves beneath the eye of a storm, releasing its rage and unkept temper and glittering readily at the end of her graceful fingers.

Roku had not faltered or paused as the two received these sudden and powerful gifts; undaunted, he grabbed them each by one shoulder and forced them to look up into his face. But even as he spoke he began to fade, as though Zuko and Katara were awakening from some odd and wonderful dream.

"Listen well, and do not be wholly distracted with the wonder of these powers. If you linger, or wait, or falter in your judgement, then the world will be cast under shadow. The sun and moon will not shine again until you have brought back the true Avatar and restored the balance. For even as the Avatar is linked to the Spirit World, so the Spirits are linked to him; and by turning to darkness, the balance between both worlds is destroyed. If he remains lost in his hate and anger, all the world will whither, and the Spirits themselves perish. The world exists on Yin and Yang, love and hate, darkness and light, good and evil. You were chosen because you knew this balance within your hearts; the balance of fire and water, of passion and peace, of anger and serenity. You are now the only lights the world has, and because you are not true Spirits, the power of the Avatar will not affect you as greatly. Go quickly, and turn the Avatar back to the path of love and peace."

Then he vanished, and the darkness wavered and dispersed as though the sun was rising in one swift, fluid movement; and Katara and Zuko were left to stare into the cold, hateful eyes of Aang, the Avatar fallen to darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

Iroh was the only one on that cold, iron ship to truly see the battle, for he himself had a connection with the Spirits of old; but even in his eyes the picture of his nephew and his nephew's love was blurred and undefinable. Zuko was only visible for one fleeting moment, glaring straight ahead, his golden gaze flared and strengthened with the hidden power of Kagu. And then the fires in his veins erupted with such unimaginable passion and ferocity that for several days afterwards, he would lose his sight for no apparent reason and wander about in darkness.

Zuko and Katara had less than a second to prepare themselves for the onslaught of the monstrous, shadowed Avatar; but this short time seemed an eternity, a moment that slowed to a painful, agonized crawl. Zuko looked on Aang first in fear and uncertainty, but then the power of the sun inflamed him and he understood. The snarl of a deep, dark, ancient demon met his ears, and the faint blur of a savage shadow passed across the young boy's face. A cold evil struggled beneath his tattooed skin, leering and famished, threatening to devour his very soul and sanity.

Flame slipped between Zuko's bared teeth and his piercing golden eyes flashed to an unreal brightness. His knuckles snapped as he opened his hands and all colors of fire - white, red, orange, yellow, purple, blue - poured down the length of his bare arms, consuming the rough skin of his chest, his very eyes pouring blinding flame.

Katara looked on Aang and her bewildered gaze was pierced with the searing stab of a maddening, unbearable hatred as the Avatar's heart ripped and tore beneath the impossible depths of his rage. Injustice bled from the red rims of his dark-lit eyes, the guilt-poison seeping out of his shadowed frame as though his very life drained in red buckets from his veiled wounds. The conflict in him passed beyond any mortal recognition, anything that Katara could fathom; and then the deep waters overflowed within her, and she no longer thought as mortal.

Katara stood, her heavy coat and robe gone, her fingers dripping steadily with gentle droplets. Her dark hair glistened with ice crystals as a light frost caked against her soft skin and paled her to an elegant, angelic shade. The light blue of her eyes glowed like liquid-sapphire, a reflection of endless oceans, storming seas, the eerie twists and turns of ancient, undisturbed rivers.

Aang looked back at the two, and the demon in him recoiled like a repulsed snake. Zuko pulsed with warmth and strength and pure ferocity, the raw fury and brilliance of his renewed being overpowering the subtle darkness the Avatar bled. Katara dripped with the threat of unleashed floods, her gorgeous eyes glittering with a promise of peace that cut the evil in Aang more sharply than any mortal knife.

For one long, dreadful moment, the three stared at each other, no one daring, as yet, to move. Iroh stared at the sight, his eyes threatening to burn from their centers, but he did not look away.

Then the devil in Aang leapt, letting out one tortured, unearthly, ear-splitting roar.

Mountains shook beneath the sky. Seas roared, unbound, and flooded nations. Volcanoes exploded into hellish infernos. Wells in the deep surfaced like rampaging monsters. Earthquakes tore cities in half. Irresistible winds blew innocents into darkness. Everywhere catastrophe raged, tragedy ran rampant, terror fed like ravenous hounds. And beneath the dark sky in the North, Katara knelt upon the surface of the ocean.

She leapt forth and the water burst up beneath her in a running stair, her hands flooded, her body drenched and shimmering. Zuko appeared like a streak of lightning behind her and the darkness parted beneath his glorious blaze, suddenly revealing the hidden Avatar in the dark.

Katara fell upon him, casting away the strangling shadows on either side. Rivers ran through her fingers and streamed over Aang's head, down the shadowed length of his body, into his mouth and nose and ears and eyes. It swirled for a brief moment inside him, cornering the hatred and guilt and anger, a savage attempt to draw it out. But it rejected the glow of La's waters and spurted out of Aang's form, throwing Katara back on the hard deck of the broken ship.

The world thundered and changed beneath their warring and Zuko, infuriated, swept behind the young Avatar, his hands aflame and blinding; but Aang knew him, and he spun with a fluid and uncanny ease to meet his old foe and friend. Their hands met and they gripped each other with such unmeasurable force that deep down beneath the ice, the foundations of the earth cracked and a chasm formed in the sea.

Aang glared headlong at Zuko, his eyes so black and hideous it rivaled the curtain of absolute night that lingered at the edge of the stars, the cloak of shadow that dwelled somewhere in the furthest caves a thousand miles beneath the mines. He was screaming in unnatural tongues, his teeth blaring so white against the darkness of his eyes that they gleamed like rows of fresh-born stars. Zuko roared back against him as the flame poured from his mouth, a deep and deadly red that dripped like blood beneath his fang-like teeth, his golden eyes consumed with the fires of burning twin suns. Flame licked Aang's arms and for a moment, it seemed as though his pale skin had been burned and blackened beneath Zuko's intensity. The demon recoiled, as if to repent; and for half a second, the fire at Zuko's wrists faded and his grip loosened.

"LIAR."

Zuko's arm snapped behind him and he crashed hard onto the iron deck. The light in him died significantly and Iroh blinked, crawling to his nephew like a trembling child. Katara knelt down beside him only to be thrashed aside in the same manner, her gentle body tumbling loudly across to the other side of the ship.

"THERE IS NO MERCY."

Zhao had, all this time, been rent in agony and grief and fumbling to drown himself in the icy waters; but at the sound of the Avatar's words, his eardrums split, and he cried silently in agony beneath the din of the battle, the blood pouring from his ears.

Aang, picking up Zuko by his glowing throat, stared apathetically into the golden, flame-rimmed glittering eyes, his anger still pulsing but veiled. His grip tightened resolutely on his neck and Zuko's eyes grew wide, the light in him dimming to a feeble glow, threatening to extinguish. Then Katara cried out with a noise like heaven's trumpets and flashed towards the Avatar, a violent tidal wave of swirling ocean and daggered ice.

Aang could not respond quickly enough and fell to the ground, pinned against the iron with sharpened ice that pierced the thickened metal. He struggled against it, but the power pulsing in Katara's blood held him fast. Zuko, once again blinding in his power, leaned down towards him and put a hand on his forehead. The skin writhed and churned beneath the righteous fury of his fires, and in a deafening tone the Prince commanded the demon to depart.

A red flash sparked from his finger and glistened between them. Aang screamed, convulsed, and lay still.

Katara's arms relaxed and the daggers of ice melted, forming shallow puddles around the Avatar's still form. Zuko did not move, continuing to stare at the Aang's motionless body, his eyes sill dark, but empty.

Katara knelt down beside him and drew a long stream of water from her finger. She twisted it in the air before her, whispering something inaudible, forming the last few soothing words that would rid Aang of his cursed anger. Zuko watched her silently, betraying no emotion, his left hand placed solidly on Aang's shoulder.

Deep down beneath in the ground, the depths of hell trembled uncertainly.

"Return to the path of peace, Aang," said Katara gently. She closed her eyes and lowered the water to his parched and bleeding lips.

There was a sound like a chorus of demons as Aang's mouth opened, his eyes glowing with such indescribable hatred it passed all bearable explanation. With one furious hand he displaced Zuko and thrashed away the healing water. Then one arrowed, stone fist closed determinedly around Zuko's wrist as the other clamped upon Katara's throat.

Cataclysm enveloped the world. From one side, blue oceans, roaring seas, wise rivers flowed into Aang;s body. From the other, the unbound strength of the sun coursed into his heated veins. And both met in the center, in the middle of his fury, in the depth of his darkness. Aang stared out at the dark horizon as blood dripped down from his lips, a deep, black fire covering the last few inches of his body.

* * *

Katara's eyes were wide, unfocused, staring blankly as she scrabbled blindly at the front of Zuko's shirt. The air was bitter, whipping her face in mocking laughter and stinging her red-rimmed eyes, her lips chapped, her skin thrashed and dry. 

"Don't cry Katara...it's going to be...alright..."

Zuko's teeth were chattering so hard he could barely manage the words from his throat. His arms held tight around her, embracing her from the winds with body and spirit, shielding her from the groping, clawed hands of her invisible monsters. His scar was stinging mercilessly but it didn't register in conscious thought; his mind was bent upon Katara, her terrified frame clutching to him desperately as she tried, in vain, to escape the reality of what had happened to them.

He could hear her chest heaving as she tried desperately to stop from hyperventilating, the tears falling from her eyes without her knowledge. He held her close and swallowed, though his throat was dry and sore; pulling her as close as humanly possible she buried her head into his chest and he gazed out into the freezing darkness, rocking her very slowly in his arms.

_How could this happen?_

Before them the ship was half-sunk in the ice, the darkness in the sky terrible and irreparable and complete. Off on the horizon, Zuko could see the slight glimmer of black flame and dark water erupting in screaming pillars. The earth rumbled briefly every now and then, the sky partial to short and brutal thunderstorms. And beneath the infinite blackness of the sky, upon the shaking instability of the ice, Katara leaned into Zuko's chest and whispered her love. And Zuko whispered it back, faint and unimportant though it all felt in the wake of this disaster.

And there they lingered, unable to recall the powers Roku had given them, the powers the Avatar had stolen. Insignificant they seemed, and small, and overlooked; two lovers crouched upon an iceberg, gazing out at the faint flashes of light a thousand miles away and whispering nonsense to each other in the dark. Just waiting.

It was the end.

Zuko knew it. Katara knew it. And beneath the weight of that knowledge they clung to each other, waiting, their eyes shut tight, the tears dripping silently from locked gazes.

They could not see man and woman who stood, unmoved, before them.

"It is not time for the end, my children. It is time to go back."


	17. Chapter 17

Zuko felt the hand on his shoulder, but he did not turn to see who stood there. If it was his uncle, his own flesh and blood, crept from the ship to him, he would not have looked. If it was Sokka, the irritating warrior he had come to call his friend, he would not have turned, would not even have spoken. If it was Zhao, then let it be Zhao; that pathetic creature could no longer harm him. And if it was the Avatar, he did not care; death itself was welcome at this point, and if indeed these were his last moments of life, he would be content, having held Katara with him even until the ending of the world.

But no voice rose beneath the thunder. And the darkness of death did not embrace him.

But neither did the apocalypse end, roaring on in the deep earth as though the dragon-guards of hell tore apart the world at its foundations. Neither did the to ocean itself cease to tremble in fear of the Avatar's wrath, however many miles away he was wreaking havoc. Neither did the wind die, fleeing from Aang like a blind stampede of swift-winged horses, whipping Katara's hair about in a ferocious, stinging dance.

It was not remembered whether, after several long hours - or days, or weeks, or years it could have been - if it was Zuko or Katara who looked up first. They came to decide that they gazed up simultaneously; but this they could never clearly prove. And at no time did they agree on what they saw, or who they saw, in those last, obscured minutes of the destruction of the world. Except for on thing.

Their eyes.

There is no use, trying to explain their eyes. It could be said that they held all the knowledge of the world in their two gazes, all the wisdom and power of the many thousand years the world bore under the moon. But this was in no way close enough. They were constant and absolute, yet shapeless and empty, all the while ever-shifting into something new, or something old, or something as yet unseen. Upon the edges of Time they ran, twin lights beneath the eternal dark Void, cascading down waterfalls of unnamed colors in other worlds that dwelt in neither physical or spiritual realms. Beyond thought, beyond immortality, beyond the highest reaches of time and reason and power they came. Light sprang from the shadows of their glance, and yet darkness came with it, and they came not separate, but as one; opposites and yet the same, the force and balance and eternal awareness, combined into a power perfected and unattainable. It passed heaven and hell; passed death and life; passed love and hate. Time did not exist; perception held no sway; and all that poured forth from their gaze came out clean, untainted, soaked in an understanding that outdistanced all mortal and divine wisdom. A faint song arose out of the ancient Black and echoed about the stars within their eyes, the sweet sound of silence that rang out in the Beginning, before the very thought of the world had even arisen out of the darkness.

"So great a thing, was never expected of you. We are Yin, and we are Yang, and always, we are one. Take this chance, and use it well. It is the last hope."

Katara could feel Zuko's heart, his soul, his spirit, the very center of his fire that still contained some gift of power from Kagu. And Zuko could feel within her as well, the soft flow of her gentle heart, the passion, the peace, the torrent of La's cool waters. And for one moment, the line between them blurred and vanished.

And they were one.

* * *

"Zuko? Are you listening to me?"

Zuko could still feel the lingering, soothing feeling of Katara's heart and he stumbled abruptly in the snow, as if awakening from some illusionary reality. The voice beside him was familiar, but he could not at once place it, so absorbed was he in the remembrance of the Avatar's destruction, the angelic serenity of Katara, the look of the unearthly eyes that had gazed down so lovingly upon them. The sound of the Silence before the World was ringing in his ears, his blood pumping with an ancient, unquenchable Fire that was, in comparison, not ancient at all. He could not feel the cold wind, or the biting frost upon his face, or the stinging of his eyes as he refused to blink. He was numb with something that reached beyond his body, beyond his feeling, beyond his spirit. Beyond anything and everything he had ever come to know.

"Don't look so worried, Zuko, I just wanted to say that - well, our first order of business should be finding you a priest..."

Zuko heard him, but then again he did not; he seemed deaf one moment, utterly alienated and perplexed, and the next moment he understood everything his Uncle spoke, or didn't speak, depending on how closely he chose to listen. But despite any irregularities with his hearing he turned to Iroh, silent as stone and just as motionless. And to his surprise, Iroh faltered on his words and awe spread across his face.

"Zuko..." he whispered, unable to speak for a brief moment, his eyes wide and unfocused with wonder. His trembling finger pointed sub-consciously at his nephew's face, unaware at the rudeness of the gesture.

"Zuko...your eyes..."

But Zuko was looking up the path now, responding to another voice that called him out of the midst of numb thought and old knowledge. Aang was starting back towards Katara, confused and unsure as to why she stood rooted in the snow, his voice rising dimly with a request to find a water bender.

But Katara was deaf like Zuko, and is some ways she was blind as well; for she could not see the snow, or the rows of iced houses, or the distant sea. But she saw more astounding things in those last fading moments than all the glorious wonders of the earth, all the starlit halls of a high and mighty heaven, all the terrors of a scorching Hell. Even as Zuko beheld her, she became a princess, strayed from a deep enchanted sleep, her gaze still holding desperately to the last few colors of her fantastical dreams. The vanishing rays of dark and light that had mingled so perfectly in the vacancy of that Timeless Void reflected in the sweet blue of her eyes, shining like bound rivers beneath a watchful moon. And deep within her a shred of Zuko's soul still burned, a strength and comfort, a warmth to the ever-growing coldness of the water's vicious edge.

And when Zuko came towards her, she did not back away, but met him willingly. Sokka stumbled upwards from the water's edge just in time to see them embrace, to catch the amazed look on Iroh's face, to see the dumbfound gleam in Aang's eyes. Momo leapt onto his shoulder and he looked warily at the lemur, scratching his head.

"Did I miss something?"

Katara's hair poured across the Prince's chest as he took her in his arms, his lips brushing the side of her face but resisting the temptation to kiss. Then one of Katara's hands slid up past Zuko's shoulder and rose, straight and strong, into the air.

For the first time since they could remember, they felt the soft wrapping of the two half-necklaces; the one about Zuko's arm, and the one about Katara's wrist. Then the overwhelming understanding of Yin and Yang consumed them, and Zuko closed his eyes as the brilliant light of Kagu poured forth from them. Healing water dripped down from Katara's fingertips as she delicately twisted her wrist and closed her fist.

In on fluid motion, a crevasse opened up beneath them and the pair vanished beneath the snow.

* * *

Zhao glared out at the horizon, his tongue practically lolling from his mouth, his eyes lowered and glaring like the crazed gaze of a dead man. He laughed subtly at some unknown thought, his body twitching grotesquely, his back arched and bent like the crooked form of a famished demon. He licked his lips and his mind turned to the blood that would soon taint them, beautiful, warm, flowing crimson blood...

"Blood, and death, and pain, and misery..." he hummed to himself, as though reciting a satanic lullaby. "It will control the world. It will control the rebellious. I love...this war..."

"Then you will love this."

Zhao's eyes opened but there was no escape. Zuko appeared before him like a restless ghost, but he held no transparent quality. The mere sight of him was blinding, unreal, and Zhao screamed, trying to look away. But Zuko's flame-coated arms, blaring an unbearably brilliant shade of yellow and white, clasped about his shoulders and hoisted him into the air, his struggles a futile effort against the Prince's immobility.

Zhao thrashed about, but the light of his red fire was dirty and dark and ineffective beneath the cleansing splendor of Zuko's form. Unable to free himself, the very fear he had instilled into so many innocent others broke greedily into his heart and he began to beg, sobbing mercilessly.

Zuko ignored him. He was waiting for Katara, who was delayed for some unapparent reason. When she finally appeared at his side, Zhao found himself unable to breathe, so beautiful and majestic and ferocious she looked, her black hair free and dappled in crystals and flung carelessly over her shoulders. Her eyes cut him in ways he could not define, sapped away the strength of his wretched soul so that he hung, limp and staring, in Zuko's iron, unmoving grip.

"You have no place here, Zhao," said Katara suddenly, and Zuko's hands tightened painfully at the Admiral's shoulders. The pathetic creature howled in pain and continued to cry. Katara swallowed at the cruelness but looked on, resolute. Zuko himself had no problem at all harming that cruel demon. He had seen the bodies in the pit; Katara had not.

"No...no...don't kill me..." Zhao whimpered, his physique small and diminished compared to roaring mgiht of Zuko, the unearthly beauty that was Katara. His pleas faded, and still Katara refused to stir from her rightful place beside Zuko.

"Death will find you, Zhao, whether we bring it to you or not," whispered Katara, sounding almost sad as she said it. "You have caused the world great agony. I have watched the earth benders die as your men attacked them. I saw many more suffer as I drove them off."

"And I have seen your sadistic lust, Zhao," hissed Zuko, clenching his hands tightly again upon Zhao, his shoulder blades cracking unnaturally. "I saw your love of blood and pain."

"Please...please..." Zhao muttered, but he was too numb with terror to speak anymore. Zuko made the smallest, most undetectable glance at Katara, who nodded silently and lowered her eyes.

"We will not kill you, Zhao," she whispered.

It took Zhao a moment to register what she had said; and when he realized the meaning of it, he glared back up with a renewed strength, a cowardly courage that surfaced only when he knew his worst fear would not come to life. He began to curse Zuko as he had done in years passed, began to hiss insults and mockeries at Katara. And that was when his judgement came.

Katara inhaled and let out one ear-splitting scream just as Zuko's eyes blared to the raw ferocity of the sun. For thousands of years, the memory of their dual punishment lingered in the North. So when the Aurora Borealis flared across the dark skies, the faint echo of Katara's cry could still be heard, while the light of Zuko's eyes glistened in the colors of the sky.

And Zhao received his reward, in lonely, silent darkness that resembled, in nearly every way, the effect of death. Zuko's gaze had burned out his eyes, while Katara's cry had shattered his ears; so that even until the day he died he wandered, deaf and blind, rejected, and absolutely alone.

* * *

"Zuko, will you swear upon the great Spirits to take this woman as your bride, to protect and cherish her, to treat her with true and just love, until death finds you?"

"I swear it."

"And Katara, will you swear upon the great Spirits to have this man as your husband, to uplift and treasure him in pure and loyal love, until death finds you?"

"I swear it."

Sokka had given up trying to be sour and, despite his feeble echo of disapproval, sat up straight with an unwilling smile playing across his lips. Beside him, Gran-Gran - who had flown on Appa all the way from the South Pole (a month's wait for Katara and Zuko) to stay in the North for a day, to see her granddaughter's wedding - cried loudly and over-zealously beside him. Iroh was patting her shoulder in a vaguely comforting way, his soft smile concentrated solely on the two figures standing, side by side, at the temple's altar. Haru - saved by an empowered Katara, along with his smiling fiancee - sat a few rows back, holding each other's hands in silent joy. Aang clutched his staff and watched the two at the altar with shaking eyes, grinning despite the ache in his heart, as the priestess placed the cup of blessed wine into the Prince's hands.

Zuko's eyes did not leave Katara as he lifted the cup to his lips. Her long hair was pulled back, falling gorgeously down the length of her back. Her skin seemed a shade darker compared to the white fabric of her stunning dress, a borrowed gown from one of the wealthiest women in the North. It slid over the soft curve of her shoulders and down the length of her slim body, almost silk-like but thicker, and cascaded down her legs, trailing onto the red-carpeted floor. When she moved, it shimmered gently, but not in a distracting way. An arctic flower was pinned to the fabric above her breast, decorated with ice crystals and sending flickers of light into the soothing, calm blue of her serene gaze. Zuko finished his sip and handed the cup to her, ready to laugh out loud in his joy.

Katara's hands slid across his as she took the cup, but her eyes did not stray to look down at the wine. Zuko was not longer wearing his ususal suit of armor. His body was shrouded in a traditional Fire Nation cloak that was stained a deep, flowing crimson, an echo of the painted armor that crested his veiled form. The was flawless and glimmering beneath the dark secrecy of the cloak, his shoulders rolling up slowly beneath the dark pads that covered the shirt beneath the metal. But his face remained the same, the dancing scar no longer a flaw, no longer a burden. Katara cherished his imperfection as much as any other part of him, and she would rather have him with his golden, glowing gaze, than any other person in the world.

The glass that returned to the priestess's hand was empty. And as Zuko's lips fell against Katara's, a rousing cry arose in the temple.

But they did not hear it. The mixed, soothing image of light and darkness danced in their minds and they smiled within the kiss.

* * *

Zuko and Katara never told anyone what had befallen them, for they never again openly discussed those fateful days in that distant reality, where the world ended beneath the power of the Avatar's darkness. They never again felt the raw power of Yin and Yang, the true heat of Kagu or the passionate flow of La.

But there were times, late in the night, after all the candles had dimmed and the eyes of the world were shut, when the two lovers lingered, half asleep and almost dreaming. It was when they lay, wrapped in one another's embrace, numb to the world and knowing only each other, that the glimpse of that last hour returned. When dark and light became one, when time did not exist, when thought no longer mattered. When the line between Yin and Yang blurred and vanished.

And they were one.

**The End**

Thanks to Reviews From:

FullMetalAlchemistGil, Shezel, Dragon Jadefire, Avalover

SonMina, Amy, Monito, lightbird, Arwey, Lady Windsong

WarriorAtHeart, AmberEyes147, Luvabl3Pna1, LoyalFan

Zukos Girl, midianek, LoneWolfLink, Aang's Lover!

Spleefmistress, Mini MnM, twiztidchick666, animeloverja

Kali kamiya, Boylessgirl52941, Komo Pineconeseed

totallystellar, Katuko, JunkFood, taybay500, heart shot girl,

SovereignxXxBrunette, Jecir, Vicki So, babyblue6666, Lionessmon

avafangirl, lindsay, queenyasha, craziestanimefan, and Chickenfoot87


	18. Note

If anyone has any suggestions to a story they'd like me to write, I'm all ears. And not just an Avatar story, either; anything you can think up, and hopefully something I have some experience with.

I'm having a little writer's block :D Silly me.


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